


Give You What You Like

by anneryn7



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, All-Knowing Deaton, Alternate Universe - High School, BFF Derek, BFF Lydia, BFF Stiles, Beacon Hills, Beacon Hills High School, Bonnie hasn't completely come into her powers yet, Deaton is Bonnie's mentor, Emissary Alan Deaton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Helpful Deaton, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Peter, Rudy Hopkins is a dick-face, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sterek cuteness, Suspicious Lydia at first, Sweet Peter Hale, Witch!Bonnie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4847531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneryn7/pseuds/anneryn7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Trigger warnings. Bonnie/Peter pairing. When Grams' passed, everything changed. The world didn't make sense anymore. My dad lost it. He changed. He was the only person I had left in the world, and he used me as a punching bag. He dragged me across the country to Beacon Hills. He said it would be a new start for us there. And then we met our new neighbor, Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey all! So, I can honestly say that I've never seen any fics for Bonnie with Peter, so I wanted to rectify that. This is going to be an ongoing story and I'm pretty excited to write it and get back in the swing of things. Special thanks to Ciara for reading this over for me and for letting me bounce ideas off of you! And all of your input! You're the best! The rating on this fic is 'T' for now, but could change to 'M' later.
> 
> Background: Bonnie's father dragged her to Beacon Hills, so he can pursue a relationship with a woman he met online. Ever since he has started to talk to her, he's become a different man. He's changed for the worst. So, he dragged Bonnie across the country, right after Sheila dies. Peter isn't too out of his mind. For story purposes, Peter is 26. Bonnie is 17, almost 18. She is the same age as Stiles, Scott and the gang. Bonnie hasn't learned how to master her powers, except how to float feathers. All the doppelgänger never happened. The rest should be explained in story.
> 
> *Trigger warnings* This story contains abuse. I'm just gonna tell you all now to just expect trigger warnings. I won't be posting warnings on each individual chapter. You've been warned.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.  
> Song Suggestion/Inspiration: "Give You What You Like" by Avril Lavigne

Chapter One:

* * *

I sat on the porch and peered around the new town that I had been forced to move to. I hadn't asked for this. Apart from my father, I don't know anyone here. I haven't even met the woman that he moved us here for. At least my father is busy doing something in the house, so I have a few minutes to myself.

I don't know when he changed or why. I only know that he did. Looking back now, it seems like it was a long time coming. I think he just used Grams' death as an excuse to snap. Things are different now. He's not the man who I once knew. He wasn't my father anymore. He was my warden.

I've heard about these stories – sure. I just never thought that I would be starring in one of them. You always think that horrible things will never happen to you. You always think that, until they do. I was no exception.

I could see the visible strain that was wearing on my dad. He was stressed from work and he started bringing that stress home. At first, he started coming home more. Initially, I had thought it would be a good thing. I hardly ever saw him, because he was away with work so often. So, I just brushed off his little episodes, because I thought he was just trying to adjust to the change.

When Grams' passed, it all went out the window. I felt like my life was some horrible, tragic joke and I was just waiting for the punch-line. Grams had been there for me through everything. I couldn't believe that she was really gone. I wasn't right. She was the last person who deserved it.

I didn't know how to exist without her. The world didn't make sense anymore, without her in it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to move on. I just shut down. My friends came to see me, to check on me, and I barely noticed. I didn't even have time to grieve.

One day, my dad came home and he just lost it. I've never seen him so angry. And I had never had him take that anger out on me. I didn't know how to react. I froze. He was screaming and yelling. I don't even remember the words. His face was red and he was livid. I could see the rage radiating off of his body like smoke. He started to throw things and I just watched. I just took it all in. I knew better than to try and calm him down, but in the end, I think that just made things worse. I remember feeling the sting, before I saw the blow coming. He had backhanded me. The force brought me to my knees on the floor. He just stood there and glared at me, like I had been the one to do something wrong, when in reality, it was the other way around. He didn't stop after that. He never stopped. The punishments became worse and when I finally mustered up the courage to ask him why he was doing all of this, he just told me that I deserved it. He was the only person I had left in this world. Grams was gone. My mom has been gone. I didn't know what to do. Before I could even come with a plan, we were packing the house, and he was dragging me across the country.

My life is a mess and I've become nothing more than a spectator. I just stayed and took it. Maybe he's right. Maybe I do deserve it.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I didn't bother checking it. I haven't talked to anyone, since I left Mystic Falls. It's too painful. It hurts to be reminded what my life once was. Seeing how far I've crumbled… I just can't. I don't expect any of them to understand. I miss them so much that it hurts.

A car door slamming jarred me from my thoughts. I saw my neighbor getting out of the car and grabbing what looked like a gym bag from the back seat. He stood up and caught me staring. A smirk graced his face and I felt him look me over with his eyes, before I finally looked away. I glanced back and he was still watching me.

"Bonnie, why aren't you helping unpack? I swear, I should have had a son. What are you good for?!" My father scolded me as he stepped onto the porch. I could feel blood rushing to my face. If anything, my neighbor seemed to be more intrigued, than anything. He started to walk over here and I started to panic. I felt my heart race. My father seemed to realize that he was heading over. He gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet, before gripping my shoulder possessively. I gulped. An easy smile graced the face of the handsome stranger, as he stood before us.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of introducing myself. I'm Peter Hale. Welcome to Beacon Hills. It's a pleasure to meet you." He introduced himself, still smiling. The fact that his smile was directed towards me, only made me blush harder.

"I'm Rudy Hopkins. This is my daughter, Bonnie Bennett." My father made both of our introductions.

"What brings you to California?" Peter pried. It's a good name. It suits him. I could feel my father tense next to me and continue to stare him down.

"We had a death in the family and I thought it was a good time for a change." My father replied easily. Despite his body language, his words were smooth and his voice was friendly. Something in Peter's eyes told me that he wasn't buying it, but he didn't let on, if he didn't.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it here. It's a small town, but it has a certain charm. Of course, I'm a bit biased." He chuckled. A small smile played on my lips.

"I hope so." My father agreed. He turned his attention to me. "I'm going to Camilla's for a couple of days. I expect things to be unpacked, when I return. Maybe you can start looking for a job or something to occupy some of your time." He suggested. And just like that, my smile was gone. Of course, he's leaving and of course, I'm left to do everything. "See what you can do about the garage." He added. "It was nice meeting you Peter." My father shook his hand and gave me a look that told me that I'd be sorry, if I didn't do as he asked. Like I even had a choice. I still have fresh bruises from this morning, because I didn't have his breakfast ready fast enough. My dad disappeared inside to grab his bag and then drove away. I sighed, not knowing what to say or how to break the awkward silence.

"Sorry about him." I apologized, lamely. Peter smirked and chuckled.

"I've seen worse." He shrugged. I nodded and stood there silently, again.

"Well… I should go unpack…" I took a step towards my front door. Peter watched me, curiously.

"Would you like some help?" He offered. I tried not to gape at him.

"That um… Yeah, that would… that would be nice." I gave him a brief smile.

"I need to shower and throw these in the wash, but then I'll be over."

"Okay. I'll leave the door unlocked." I opened the front door and felt his eyes on me, as I walked away.

"I'll see you soon, sweetheart." He smirked and walked over to his house. I shut the front door and leaned against it. Did that really just happen? He's not even my age. He has to be in his late twenties, at least. But he's just so… Wow. Those eyes.

I jumped when my phone started going off in my pocket. I pulled it out and peered at the Caller ID. It's my dad. No surprise there.

"Hey dad," I greeted him, softly.

"Bonnie, don't worry about unpacking my bedroom. Just focus on the rest of the house. I've been thinking about you getting a job and I've decided it's a bad idea. I don't want you to fall behind in your house work. Am I understood?" He asked me. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

"Yes dad," I assured him.

"Be a good girl. I'll be home in three days. Make good choices." With that, he ended the call and stared blankly at my phone. Make good choices? What did he expect me to do? It's not like I know anyone except for Peter… and it's not like that will go anywhere. There's no way that he would ever be interested in me. I barely take any pride in my appearance. I make sure that I'm clean, my clothes are clean, and my hair more-or-less behaves. Anything more than that and my father accuses me of trying to look like a harlot for attention. His words, not mine.

* * *

I moved all of the boxes into the rooms that they were supposed to be in. I started opening the boxes in the dining room and unpacking Grams' china. Tears prickled my eyes and I willed them not to fall. I still remember helping her wash them, when I was little. She always used to tell me that when she past, they would be mine. She said that things wouldn't be the same, but some things were precious and they memories that they held would be with me forever. Goddess, I miss her. I sniffled and wiped at my cheeks. I can't lose it right now. I can't. I can't keep breaking down every day. It's not what she would want.

"Bonnie," Peter spoke softly from behind me. I jumped and almost dropped the plate in my hands. I swiped at my cheeks hurriedly. I couldn't bring myself to look up at him.

"You really don't have to help me unpack. I'm sure that you have better things to do with your day." I breathed.

"I realize that you don't know me, but if you did, you would know that I wouldn't offer if I had something better to do." He teased, gently. I felt a hand on my arm. I glanced up at him, not sure what to expect. I just met this guy a little over an hour an ago and he walks in on me losing it. I can't imagine what he must think of me. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" He whispered. I blinked at the genuine concern I could see in his eyes and nodded, even though I knew that I wasn't and couldn't be for some time. He seemed to accept it, because he didn't press the issue.

"Just tired, stressed… because of the move… and everything." I underplayed what I was feeling. He moved closer and my breath caught in my throat. He started to put an arm around me and I flinched. I mentally kicked myself. It's pure instinct now. I'm so used to my dad hitting me. Peter pulled back enough to look at my face.

"I was going to hug you, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable…" He explained. Oh. Now, I  _ **really**_  feel stupid. I cleared my throat and looked at him awkwardly.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm a spaz." I tried to joke it off. He smirked. "A hug sounds nice." I added. He wrapped his arms around me and held me against him. After a few seconds, I relaxed in his warm embrace. I've forgotten what this feels like – how nice it can be. I felt fresh tears threatening to spill down my cheeks and I swallowed them back. I don't understand why my father can't be nicer, warmer. Especially, with Grams gone… you'd think that he would have stepped up as a parent… not the other way around… I stiffened and pulled back from Peter. He reached out and stroked my cheek.

"I can't have someone so beautiful crying." He offered me a small smile. I don't know what it is about him, but he makes me feel at ease – comfortable. I've missed this. I've missed feeling safe. I feel like I can finally breathe again.

"I'm really not." I blushed, breaking eye contact with him.

"I wouldn't lie to you about that, sweetheart." He assured me. My blush deepened. "How many rooms do you have left to unpack?" He asked me. I looked around.

"Almost all of them," I said lamely, with a slight laugh. He smirked.

"Tomorrow, I'll see if my nephew and his boyfriend can stop by to help." He offered.

"Your nephew?" I asked, confused. He chuckled.

"He's twenty-three." He explained. I nodded.

"Oh, okay. That makes a lot more sense now." I giggled. "I know it's not really polite to ask… but how old are you?" I inquired, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"I'm twenty-six. And you?" He replied, smoothly. He appeared to be more amused by my question, than anything else.

"I'm seventeen… but I'll be eighteen next month." I admitted. He nodded.

"Did you want to get started in the dining room first?" Peter asked me, changing the subject. I bit my lip and glanced back at the box filled with Grams' china. I shook my head.

"Actually, I was thinking the kitchen might be better… I need a little bit, before I unpack these boxes. They belonged to my Grams… She's the one who passed…" I explained, softly. He nodded and moved a hand over mine.

"Anything you want sweetheart." He smiled. I gave him a brief smile back. Maybe California won't be so bad. Apart from my father, Beacon Hills isn't looking quite so bleak anymore.

* * *

I stood on my tiptoes and tried to put some dishes on one of the top shelves in the kitchen cabinets. I cursed under my breath, when I still fell short. I jumped when I felt warm hands on my waist. I glanced behind me and saw a very amused Peter.

"Let me help you with that." He offered. He took the glass bowls from my hands and put them up for me. I blushed and smiled in thanks. "You may want to invest in a stool, sweetheart." He teased. I laughed.

"Tell me about it. I'm sure life is a breeze, when you're tall." I giggled. He just smirked.

"What can I say? Not everyone can be blessed with a body as perfect as mine." He shrugged, with his smirk still cemented in place. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore all of the blood rushing to my face. "I like making you blush." He mused. I flushed scarlet and looked down at my feet. "What do you say, I order some dinner, grab a couple bottles of wine and we'll tackle the rest of the house?" He offered. I gaped at him.

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose. I'm sure that there's food around here somewhere… And I'm not old enough to drink." I protested.

"What kind of neighbor would I be if I didn't provide dinner for you to welcome you to town?" He asked. "Besides, I won't tell about the wine, if you don't." He winked. I closed my mouth. I didn't know what to say. This was definitely not what I was expecting… but that didn't mean that it was unwelcome.

"Okay." I gave him. His smirk widened into a smile and he pulled out his phone. I grabbed more dishes and started putting them away, to avoid looking at him. He started talking and I assumed he was ordering dinner. I climbed on top of the counter and put away the rest of the glass bowls. I started to climb down and felt myself start to slip.

"Careful sweetheart, we can't have anything happening to you now. Can we?" He teased as his hands were back to my sides, steadying me. His hands stayed there, as I climbed down. He gave my side a gentle squeeze and I winced. He looked down, concerned. My eyes followed his and I saw the dark bruise that my father had given me yesterday. I hurried to fix my shirt and pull it down.

"I'm so clumsy." I laughed, nervously, not entirely lying through my teeth. He looked like he wanted to say something, but refrained.

"Dinner should be here soon. I'm going to run home and grab the wine, but I'll be back in a few minutes." He assured me. I nodded.

"Okay, see you in a few." I replied. His hand trailed from my side to my hand. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. I watched him leave and stood in confusion. That was close. That was too close. No one can find out about my father. He told me that if I ever told anyone, he would kill me. I know him well enough to know that he wasn't lying. But maybe a friendship with Peter wouldn't be such a bad thing. I can't stand constantly feeling so alone. I would give anything to feel like I had a friend. Who knows, maybe he'll be more than a friend? I still have three days, until my father will be back. A lot can happen in three days, but eventually, reality always has a way of coming back and slapping you in the face.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! I know that Bonnie and Peter are a crackship, but I can't seem to get enough of them!
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Two:

* * *

I wiped down the counters, stove top, and dining room table, while I waited on Peter to come back with the wine. It didn't take me nearly as long as I thought it would.

I washed my hands and set up the TV in the living room. Since it's a smart TV, there wasn't a whole lot to do. The cable guy isn't coming until next week, but we have Netflix and I have a massive movie collection, so I'm not really worried. I found the box of throw pillows and set them on the couch. The throw blankets were in the box next to it.

I was moving around lamps and contemplating where to hang up pictures, when I heard the door open. I saw Peter walk in with three bottles of wine. Just how much is he planning to drink?

He smirked, when he noticed I was looking at him. I dropped my gaze and finished moving the lamps. I started wiping down the coffee table, when he placed his hand on mine to stop me.

"Why don't you let me do this?" He offered, softly. I didn't know what to say or how to respond. "The food will be about an hour. You have enough time to shower or clean up a bit, if you'd like." He looked so genuine, like he actually cared. I stared at him, awestruck.

"Are you sure? I'm almost finished in here, anyway. It's really not that big of a deal." I tried to protest.

"Of course, I can finish up in here." He assured me, like he knew I was going to give in. A shower does sound nice... especially with all of the unpacking I've done around the house...

"Okay. I won't be long. Don't worry about putting away the movie binders. I normally keep those in my room... Dad isn't big on movies... Thanks, Peter." I gave him a small smile, before heading over to the stairs.

"It's no trouble at all, Bonnie." He promised, gently. I think that's the first time that I've ever heard him say my name. I had to admit that I liked the sound of it.

I went upstairs into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. This is crazy, right? I'm trusting someone I just met to be basically one in my house… Goddess… I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what it is about him, but something in my gut keeps telling me to trust him. I can't help but follow my gut instinct.

I grabbed a comfortable change of clothes, before turning on the hot water in the bathroom. I didn't have to wait long for the water to heat up. That's one good thing about this house. Well, that and I have my own bathroom attached to my bedroom. That's a nice step up. Being an only child, I've never really had to share a bathroom, but with my father's increasingly unpredictable moods, this is a welcome change. That's for sure.

I stepped under the hot spray of water and let out a deep breath. I tried not to look at myself, as I washed away the sweat and grime from the day. My body is a multicolored map of bruises. I do my best to keep them covered. To my father's credit, he normally hits me, where I'm normally covered, anyway. I sighed and washed my hair. How did this become my life?

I can't help but feel like it was because of something I did. What did I do that was so wrong? I've always done my best to be there for my friends, when they needed me. Up until recently, I've never really been in trouble with my dad. Every time he or my Grams asked me to do something, I never argued, I just did it. That's how I was raised. Respect above all else was crucial. I keep replaying different parts of my life in my head and nothing adds up. I just don't get it.

I went through the motions of my hygiene routine in a haze. When the water started to cool down, I knew that I had been in the shower for too long. I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and the rest of the soap off of my body.

I toweled off and towel-dried my hair the best that I could. I put it in a lazy bun and left it alone. I lathered lotion on my body before pulling on a sports bra and a clean pair of underwear. I slipped my legs into a thick pair of leggings and paired them with an old t-shirt and an oversized sweater. I put a pair of socks on and went downstairs.

True to his word, Peter had finished unpacking the living room. The only thing he didn't do, was hang the pictures. I was thankful for that. He unpacked Grams' china and set it up in the china cabinet in the dining room. I looked around, trying to find him.

"You didn't have to do all of this." I told him, a little taken aback, when I saw him. He gave me an easy grin and shrugged.

"I don't mind." He promised.

"Thank you." I returned his smile. He stood up and gestured to the living room.

"I didn't think you'd want me to hang the pictures. I thought it would be best if I left those for you." He explained.

"I appreciate that. Thank you."

"You don't have to keep thanking me." He chuckled.

"I want to." I whispered. I walked over to the pictures and spotted the hammer and nails on the floor. I set to work, determined to hang the few pictures, before dinner. I felt Peter's eyes on me, but he didn't say anything, so I didn't either.

* * *

As soon as the last picture was up, the doorbell rang. Talk about perfect timing. I went to step down from the chair I was standing on, when I noticed Peter's hand, offering to help me down. I blushed as I accepted it. He helped me to my feet, before going to answer the door. I walked over with him and grabbed my purse that I had left sitting in the entry-way. Peter shook his head when I pulled out my wallet. Before I could start to protest, he had already paid the delivery guy and given him a handsome tip.

"You really didn't have to do that." I sighed, finding it hard to stay irritated with him.

"I wanted to." He echoed my words from earlier. "Why is it so hard for you to accept someone being nice to you?" He asked me, seriously, as we talked into the kitchen. I bit my lip as I got plates out, for the Mediterranean takeout. I didn't say anything as I dished some of the food out onto my plate. Peter held up a bottle of wine and looked at me questioningly. I nodded. He picked up a corkscrew that must be his and opened it, seemingly effortlessly. He poured two generous helpings into wine glasses that he must have brought from home, too. My father and I don't have any. The only thing my dad really drinks is scotch.

"I guess I'm just not used to it." I answered, meekly.

"You're not used it?" He pressed, gingerly. I shook my head and took a sip of the sweet, red wine.

"It's not important. We should eat before this gets cold. Do you want to watch anything?" I asked him.

"We can watch anything you want." He smiled. I nodded and turned on an episode of  _Criminal Minds_. It's harder to watch lately, but I'm addicted. They always catch the bad guy at the end of the episode. That's one of the biggest reasons I watch it now. Maybe it's because I know that I can't be saved, so I relish in watching other people get saved.

* * *

After dinner and a couple of glasses of wine later, we had the music on and I was laughing as Peter helped me move around things in my room. We've already tackled the rest of the house, save for the garage, but Peter said his nephew and his guy would help with that tomorrow.

I laughed when Peter held up a box of nail polish questioningly. I pointed to my bathroom. He already helped me hang shelves in my bathroom. I started putting the bottles on the shelves, color coordinating them. Peter came up from behind me and set my make-up box on the sink.

"For a woman who doesn't seem to wear any makeup, you have an awful lot of it." He teased. I chuckled and hit his arm, playfully. His eyes glittered with amusement.

"I guess I lost interest." I shrugged.

"You just woke up one day and thought, 'To hell with it?'" He asked. I shrugged and took a sip of wine.

"Maybe I don't care what I look like," I replied. I turned around to face him and he cupped my cheek, so softly, almost like he was afraid that if he pressed too hard, I'd break.

"You look beautiful, especially, since you're not even trying." He whispered. I couldn't ignore how deep his words went. I've never had anyone talk to me the way Peter does. Sure, I dated Jeremy for a minute, but even when he was trying to be sweet, it was nothing like this.

"I'm not." I argued, shaking my head.

"You  _ **are**_." He pressed. I raised my glass to my lips and drained it. To say that I'm horrible at accepting compliments is an understatement. They just make me uncomfortable. "Earlier, when you said that you weren't used to people being nice to you, what did you mean by that?" He asked me, cautiously. I blinked and shook my head. He left the bathroom and I let out the breath that I was holding. I held the open wine bottle and gestured to my glass. I nodded. I'm definitely feeling it now, but I'm not complaining. "When is your birthday?" He asked me. I looked at him for a second, before answering. I had already told him that it was next month. He probably wants to know the specifics. That thought made me laugh.

"A week from tomorrow," I replied. It's nearly the end of the month.

"October 1st?" He guessed. I nodded. He moved closer to me and leaned his forehead against mine. I took another drink of my liquid courage. "If you let me, I'll show you just how beautiful you are." He promised. I looked up at him, trying to figure out what he meant by that. His face crept closer to mine and I forgot how to breathe. "Do you want this?" He asked me. I knew he was talking about kissing me. Right now, I can't think of anything that I'd want more.

"Yes," I breathed. He cupped the side of my face and brought his lips tenderly to mine. I gasped against his mouth and hesitated before returning the kiss. He pressed his lips against mine harder and I felt it throughout my entire being. He made me feel so inexperienced, but I didn't want him to stop. I groaned against him and he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I wrapped an arm around his neck and brought myself closer to him. He picked me up and set me on the sink. I wrapped my legs around his middle and did my best to keep up with his demanding mouth. His lips moved from my mouth to my neck. I gasped and my hips bucked, involuntarily. "Don't leave a mark." I panted, trying to catch my breath. He nodded against me and kept the kisses closed mouthed against my jaw. I shivered. "Peter," I breathed. He pulled away and looked at me, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

" _ **What**_  are you?" He asked, quietly. I giggled and shook my head. I don't even know how to answer that. "Before things go any further, you need to know that I have no intentions of having sex with you, at least not until you're eighteen and not until you're ready. I would never dream of pressuring you into anything you don't want." He explained. I looked at him and did my best to focus on his words and not on his lips.

"I wouldn't have had sex with you tonight." I told him, honestly. I could tell that he was intrigued. "But I appreciate your honesty and your sincerity," I admitted. I picked up my wine glass and finished it. "I still don't understand why you're here. I guarantee that you're not hurting for female attention. What do I have that you could possibly want?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

"Everything," he murmured. I was left speechless, for the umpteenth time tonight. "I want the chance to treat you the way that you deserve to be treated." His words weren't lost on me. I wasn't sure if he realized the gravity of what he just said, but I did.

"And how do I deserve to be treated?" I asked him, my voice barely raising about a whisper.

"Do you honestly not know?" He looked me in the eye and I didn't say anything. I was scared to admit that I didn't know what I deserved anymore. "You deserve to be treated like a fucking queen." He breathed, before touching his lips to mine, with a heartbreaking gentleness. I felt tears prickle around my eyes and swallowed them back. How can a man I barely even know make me feel like I'm worth more than my own family does? It's not fair. "We can finish this in the morning. Why don't we get you to bed?" He suggested. His eyes flashed an electric blue. Wow. I nodded. He carried me out of the bathroom and set me on my bed. He tucked me in and I couldn't stop looking at him. I wish I could figure him out.

"Will you stay?" I asked him, surprising myself. I didn't expect those words to come out of my mouth, but I don't regret them. "Just to sleep… not to… you know…" I finished, lamely. He nodded and toed off his shoes. I took off my sweater and my socks, before nestling back into bed. "Is that how you normally sleep?" I pressed, quietly. He shook his head. I could see the internal debate that he was having. "You don't have to stay."

"It's not that, sweetheart. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable." He sat on the edge of my bed.

"How would you make me uncomfortable?"

"I normally sleep in underwear, just underwear." He explained. To his credit, he didn't smirk. I shrugged.

"As long as you keep your underwear on, we won't have any problems." I laughed. He smirked at my reaction. I smiled up at him. "We'll be bed buddies…" I made a face at how it sounded. "That sounds wrong. We'll be… I don't know." I frowned. "Stupid wine," I complained. Peter laughed, as he stripped down to his skivvies. "We're neighbors." I decided, lamely. He chuckled, as he slipped under the covers and wrapped an arm around my waist. I cuddled against him and used his chest as a pillow.

"We're friends." He suggested. I nodded.

"Friends," I repeated. "Do you kiss all your friends?" I asked him, stifling a giggle. The wine is making everything funny.

"Just you, sweetheart," he corrected me. I looked up at him and he stroked the side of my face with his thumb. I sighed, contently. "I don't think that anything more than friends, before you're of age would be wise."

"That's true." I agreed, tiredly.

"You should try to sleep." He suggested, as turned off the lamp on my bedside table. I nodded against him. He placed a kiss on the top of my head and I closed my eyes.

"Thank you." I murmured, sleepily.

"For what, sweetheart?"

"For being nice to me," I whispered, almost asleep.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked. I nestled closer to him and basked in the warmth of his embrace.

"My dad isn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Reviews would be awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey all! After getting some of your reviews, I realize that some things were unclear. I'm sorry! That's totally my fault. I hope this helps clear some things up.
> 
> Background: Sheila died of natural causes. She had a heart attack and passed in her sleep. The Salvatore brothers never came back to Mystic Falls, while Bonnie was living there. Jackson never left Beacon Hills. Erica and Boyd are still alive. Isaac never left Beacon Hills, either. Neither did Derek, or Chris. Rafael never came back.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.

* * *

Chapter Three:

* * *

I jumped, when I felt something move next to me. I tried to get up, but I couldn't move. I opened my eyes and saw a hand around my middle. I started to panic and flailed to get out of the tight grip.

"Bonnie, it's okay. You're okay." A deep, gentle voice next to me crept into my ears. The grip around me disappeared and I fell off of my bed. I blinked and looked at the floor and back up to my bed, trying to process what had just happened.

"Peter?" I asked, quietly. He nodded. He looks rested, but worried. "I-I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I'm just… jumpy." I ended, lamely. He nodded, but he didn't look like he believed me. He moved closer to the end of the bed, but I didn't make any effort to get up off of the floor. Goddess, I'm such a freak. I sighed.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, gently. I blinked. I don't know. Am I?

"I guess, yeah," I answered him, anyway.

"If you need some time to yourself, we can leave unpacking to another day." He offered. I shook my head.

"No, it's okay. The sooner I get it done, the better. My dad really wants everything in its place." I told him.

"Including you?" He inquired.

"Wh-what?" I stammered. Did I hear him right?

"Last night, you told me that your father wasn't nice to you." He pressed.

"Oh," I faked a laugh. "That must've been the wine." I lied.

"You don't have to protect him, if he's hurting you." He kept pushing it.

"Look, I barely know you. I just met you yesterday. I told you that it was the wine. Will you just drop it, already?" I snapped at him. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. "Oh, my goddess… I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean that. I just… My dad isn't perfect, but he's all I've got." I clasped my hands together and tried to will them to stop shaking.

"Sweetheart, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I pushed and I shouldn't have. I tell you what, why don't I run home and shower and get a change of clothes and then you can come over and I can whip us up some breakfast? That'll give you time to get showered and changed, too." His offer was so sweet. It just made me feel worse for being so defensive and snapping at him.

"You really don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to. I want to." He smiled. I nodded.

"That sounds nice, Peter. Thank you."

"The pleasure is mine." He got out of bed and pulled his clothes on, before walking over to me and helping me to my feet. He gave me a small kiss, before seeing himself out. I sighed and fell backwards on my bed, after he left. What have I gotten myself into? He's a babe, a total knockout. The age difference doesn't bother me. The only thing that really worries me, is my father finding out. I don't even know how to have a normal, whatever it is that's going on between us. I can't even have someone try to shake my hand, without flinching. This is such a mess. When I'm eighteen, what really changes? Sure, I can leave, but where would I go? My father is all that I have. I can't just leave him. Yeah, he's an abusive douche-bag, but I still love him. I don't know. Maybe… Maybe this is just a phase or a rough patch he's going through? Maybe he'll change. I have to have faith that he'll change. If I don't have hope, what else is there?

* * *

**Peter's POV**

I heard a knock on the door, as I pulled a shirt on. I opened it to find a beaming Stiles and a grumpy looking Derek.

"You're not who I was expecting." I told them, honestly. They came inside, not waiting for an invitation. "And you're two hours early."

"Yeah, but I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well do something productive, like help your new lady-friend move stuff and annoy you." Stiles smiled. Derek rolled his eyes. "Level with me, creeper-wolf, you're only helping her, because she's hot, right?" Stiles pressed. I laughed and Derek just looked uncomfortable.

"She  _ **is**_ beautiful, but it's more than that. I feel drawn to her." I frowned, not knowing how exactly to word it.

"She's not someone that you feel the need to save, is she?" Derek asked. I shook my head. "You've done this before, Peter. People aren't pets. They aren't just around for your entertainment."

"Au contraire, I have come to find that some people are around for just that. That's not the case here. You haven't even met her. If you can't be nice, then I'll have Stiles call Scott and see if he'll help, instead. I do think that there is trouble in her home life, but I don't believe she need someone to save her. I think… I  _ **want**_ to help her get the tools she needs to be able to save herself. What is so wrong with that, nephew? You really are a sour-puss. What is it that Stiles is so fond of calling you? 'Sourwolf?'"

"How old is she?" Derek ignored my question, by asking me one of his own.

"She'll be eighteen in less than a week and a half." I shrugged. Derek looked like his eyes were going to fall out of his head. "Oh, don't be so judgmental, nephew, Stiles was only fifteen when you started seeing him." I reminded him.

"He's got a point." Stiles agreed with me.

"You're siding with him, now?" Derek sighed. Stiles just shrugged.

"Only when he's right."

* * *

**Bonnie's POV**

I knocked on Peter's front door, hesitantly. It didn't take long for the door to open, but it wasn't Peter who I saw on the other side. He looked my age and he was about as tall as Peter. He was lanky, but had a hint of muscle, honey colored eyes and an adorable grin.

"You must be Bonnie! I'm Stiles. I'm Peter's nephew's boyfriend. Welcome to Beacon Hills. Come in." He stepped out of the doorway, so I could come inside. I nodded, nervously.

"It's nice to meet you, Stiles." I offered.

"Don't mind Derek. He's cranky." He laughed. The man who must be Peter's nephew just scowled from the other side of the room.

"I am  _ **not**_  cranky, Stiles." He argued.

"It's just part of your charm, baby." Stiles winked at him. Peter looked as amused as I was by their exchange.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart? I won't apologize for them, because I doubt it would help." Peter teased. Stiles looked offended and Derek looked indifferent to it all. "What are you in the mood for?" Peter asked me. I shrugged.

"Really, anything is fine." I told him.

"Pancakes, make pancakes. They sound  _ **so**_  good." Stiles cooed. Derek smirked and seemed to lighten up for the first time this morning.

"Pancakes it is."

-.-

Stiles was easy to talk to. He's a senior like I am and he gave me his number after the first five minutes of talking to him. He has already made plans to introduce me to his friends. He swears that they'll love me and vice versa. I'm not so sure about Derek. He keeps looking at me, like he's convinced that I'm up to something and I'm planning to kill everyone in their sleep.

"That didn't take nearly as long, as I thought it would." Peter admitted, as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The garage was officially arranged and cleaned out. It only took us a couple of hours.

"I can't thank you guys enough. Seriously, thank you. That would have taken me all day to do, by myself." I gushed. Stiles smiled at me, sheepishly.

"No big," he promised. Derek stayed quiet.

"Thank you." I said, directly to him. He nodded.

"I'm going to order pizza." Peter announced.

"Ooh, let me. You never remember what I like." Stiles called after him, as he followed him out of the garage.

"I'm sorry." I spoke to Derek, again. He looked at me in surprise.

"What?" He asked, speaking to me for the first time.

"I'm sorry if I did something to offend you or bother you. I promise that wasn't my intention. I mean, I honestly do really appreciate you and Stiles taking the time out of your day to come over and help a complete stranger move around a bunch of things in her garage. I'm sure it wasn't ideal for you, but I do appreciate it. And I'm sorry if I did anything…" I apologized, before going inside.

"Wait," he called behind me. I turned out and looked at him. "You didn't do anything. My uncle just doesn't have the greatest track record with people. I guess I can be a little overprotective. You seem like a really sweet girl and Stiles obviously loves you. If he and Peter trust you, that's good enough for me. I'm sorry for being such an ass." He apologized.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to imply that you were. I'm sorry." I apologized, hurriedly. He laughed. "I – thank you." I finished. Wow, Bonnie, way to put your foot in your mouth. "I'm, um, I'm gonna clean up a bit and then I'll meet you guys over at Peter's?"

"Sounds good. I'll let them know." He assured me, before leaving. I shut the door behind me, and went upstairs to my room. Today wasn't horrible. It was  _ **nice**_ , even. I don't know if I'll be able to just be friends with Peter, after I'm eighteen. I don't know if I can handle a relationship, right now, either. I guess, I don't know much of anything. My dad will be home the day after tomorrow. Lord only knows what that'll mean for me.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so lots happens this chapter. More will be happening in chapters to come. Bonnie will be figuring out what she is soon and coming into her powers. Reviews are love.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Four:

* * *

My phone rang and I excused myself. Peter, Stiles and Derek kept arguing about which Batman movie was the best. Personally, I think Peter was more interested in the villains, than Batman, but to each his own.

"Hey Dad," I answered, meekly. I never really know what to expect with him. I can't help but be nervous.

"Hello Bonnie, how is the house coming?" He asked me, expectantly.

"Every room is finished, except for yours. I even go the garage done." I told him, trying to keep my voice even.

"That's my good girl." He sounded pleased. That's good, at least. "I knew a little heavy lifting wouldn't kill you." He added.

"Actually, Peter and his nephew helped with the garage. I think I got everything the way you wanted it." I told him the truth. I didn't want him to find out that I had help from someone else. I didn't see that ending well.

"You're telling me that you couldn't even handle doing what I asked you to do, without running to the first person you met for help? Are you really that lazy?" His tone turned cold in an instant. I swallowed back my tears and took a silent deep breath.

"No, Dad, that's not what I'm saying. Peter offered to help. He said that he didn't want to put any unnecessary added stress on you. He said that you seemed like a busy man. He seemed to be really impressed, by your stature." I lied. My dad didn't say anything right away. I knew he was thinking about what I had just told him. I just prayed that he would take the bait and my lie would work.

"Well, I suppose I don't see the harm in that… Bonnie, I know that I asked you not to unpack my room and I appreciate that you followed my instructions, but I would appreciate if you could wash my bedding and the other bedding in the house. I'm sure they got dirty during the move." He requested. It sounded like a simple favor, but if I didn't get it done, I knew that there would be hell to pay. I really didn't want that.

"Of course Dad, do you need me to do anything else?" I asked him.

"Can you pick up some groceries? You know what I like. I'll transfer the money into your account. I'm sure that Peter won't mind showing you where to find the local market. Just don't do anything stupid." He ended the call. I stared at my phone, before putting it in my pocket. I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. He always tells me not to do anything stupid. Does he really think that little of me? This feels like a trick. I don't know how, but it does. And I know better than to go against my father's wishes.

"Hey, everything okay?" Stiles asked me, walking into Peter's foyer to check up on me. I looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. I think moving and everything is finally hitting me. I still have more to do at the house. I should really be going." I told him. Stiles looked disappointed, but nodded, all the same.

"Okay, but seriously, if you ever get bored just text me and you can meet up with me or me and my friends and we'll entertain you." He assured me. He held his hand out for my phone. I handed it over and he fiddled with it for a moment, before calling himself with it. "Now I have yours." He grinned. I laughed.

"Leaving so soon, sweetheart?" Peter asked me, walking over, followed closely by Derek.

"Yeah, I'm really behind in laundry. I don't want it to take all night." I told him. That wasn't a complete lie. "It doesn't have to be today, but would you mind going with me to the grocery store? My dad told me to ask you. You can just point me in the right direction. I'm sure it won't be too hard to find." I joked, lamely.

"We can go later tonight, if you like. I have a couple errands to run, away." Peter gave me a sly smile. I tried not to blush. "I'll call you in a bit." He promised, before hugging me. His lips hovered a hair from mine, before he pulled away.

"It was really nice meeting you guys. Thank you, again, for all your help today. You're seriously the best." I thanked Derek and Stiles. Stiles just beamed at me sheepishly and Derek gave me a shadow of a smile and looked a little uncomfortable.

I headed home and decided to start washing my Dad's bedding first. I stripped his bed of his linens and comforter. I loaded them into the washer and got it going. I tackled the dishes and washed Peter's wine glasses by hand. I need to get these back to him, before my dad gets back. I'm afraid to even think about how bad his reaction would be, if he got back and found these here.

After the dishes, I went upstairs and started to organize my closet. It didn't take me very long. If I try to make sure that everything is close to perfect, then it'll give my father less to be angry over, at least in theory.

By the time I was done with my closet, it was time to switch the laundry over. I started washing the throw blankets, while my father's things dried.

* * *

My phone rang and I jolted awake. I fell asleep on the couch. I answered the call, sleepily.

"Hello," I practically whispered, fighting to stay awake.

"Hello sweetheart, sorry it took me so long. I had a few things I needed to get done around the house. Would you like to go to the store? We could always go in the morning." Peter offered. I thought over his proposal. If we go tonight, then I can probably finish washing all of the bedding.

"Tonight is fine. I just need to switch over the laundry and then we can go." I told him, dragging myself off of the couch and over to the laundry room. I pulled my dad's bedding out of the dryer and replaced them with the blankets in the washer.

"Do you want me to come to you?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's fine. The door is unlocked. I need like five minutes, before I'll be ready to go." I told him, before hanging up. I started the dryer, before carrying the bedding in my arms upstairs. It didn't take me long to make my father's bed. I went into my room and grabbed my bedding and my dirty clothes' hamper. I managed to carry everything downstairs, without dropping anything. That's an accomplishment in my book. Gravity is not my friend.

"Do you need any help?" A voice surprised me. I jumped and dropped everything in my hands and started to fall forwards, but hands steadied me. I held my hand to my chest and tried to steady my breathing, while looking up at Peter.

"Give me a heart attack – why don't you?" I mumbled. He looked amused and apologetic in equal measure.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He apologized.

"Don't sneak up on me." I scolded him, before bending down to pick up the laundry that littered the floor. Peter helped. He took the laundry hamper from my hands and took it to the laundry room for me. I picked up the blankets and followed him. I tossed my bedding into the washing machine and started the cycle, before glancing over at Peter. He's been watching me. "What?"

"Is it a crime to stare at a beautiful woman?" He responding. I blushed and refused to look at him, any longer.

"Let's just go." I told him.

"Are you upset with me?" He asked, ignoring my request. I shrugged my shoulders and walked out of the laundry room. I headed over to the front door and I slipped my feet into a pair of flats and grabbed my purse.

"I just don't like being scared." I admitted, quietly.

"I'll do my best not to do it again." He told me, sincerely. I nodded. He took my hand in his and brought it his lips, before using it to pull me forwards. His hands settled on my waist. "Am I forgiven?" He asked me, softly. I nodded. He gave me a small smile, before touching his lips to mine. It's getting harder and harder not to get used to kissing Peter. Kissing Peter is like… magic.

* * *

We both had carts, as we walked through the relatively vacant market. The past couple of days with Peter have felt strangely domestic. That's not even the weird part. The weird part is that I've enjoyed it. I can easily see myself settling down with Peter, maybe one day. I think we'd get along just fine in a domestic life, somewhere. That's what's throwing me off. Who is this guy?

"What else do you need, sweetheart?" Peter asked me, pulling me from my reverie.

"Chocolate," I told him, honestly. He cracked a smile and it turned into a full-on grin.

"Chocolate?" He echoed. I nodded.

"Females and chocolate basically go together." I informed him. He shrugged.

"I have so much to learn." He mused.

"I'll teach you." I teased him. We walked down the candy aisle and I grabbed two bags of Midnight Milky Way miniatures and put them in my cart.

"Is that it?" Peter inquired. I nodded. He perused the aisle and added Swedish Fish to his cart.

"Good choice."

"Thank you."

"That should be it for me. Do you need anything else?" I asked him, softly. He looked thoughtful, for a moment.

"A few bottles of wine – it seems that a few of mine have been enjoyed, already." He smirked. I blushed and shook my head. Do you men ever grow up? I mean, actually grow up? I swear, they're all children.

* * *

I giggled as I sipped my wine. Peter laughed with me. He was telling me about the lacrosse coach at Beacon Hills High School.

"I can't wait to meet him. Are you sure that he's even real?" I asked him. He just nodded and polished off his glass.

"Stiles is on the team. So are some of his friends." Peter supplied. That explains how Peter would know. It's so hard to picture Stiles playing lacrosse, though. He's as clumsy as I am and there is literally no hope for me.

"Stiles is so great." I mused, as Peter gave me more wine.

"And not so emotionally or socially constipated, like my nephew?" Peter guessed. I cackled. It's weird how comfortable I feel at Peter's. It's impeccably clean and tastefully decorated. It suits him.

"I like Derek." I shrugged.

"He's worried I'm going to corrupt you." Peter sighed. My eyebrows rose, as I drank a bit of my wine.

"And are you?" I asked him.

"I think it's you, who is going to corrupt me." Peter disagreed.

"How am I corrupting you?"

"I always want to do the right thing, while I'm around you." He whispered, bringing my lips to my temple. I closed my eyes as he placed a soft kiss there.

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"Sometimes, it is." He breathed. He's so hard to read sometimes. My phone started going off. I squinted at the clock across the room. It's almost two in the morning. What could my father possibly want now?

"Hello?" I asked curiously.

"Bonnie, good, you're up." My father said loudly.

"Yeah, I just finished putting the last load of laundry in the dryer." It wasn't a complete lie. I had, about ten minutes ago, before we moved things over to Peter's place.

"Good, good, thank you. Did you get the groceries?" He asked me.

"Yes and I got you those protein shakes that you like." I told him.

"Perfect. That's my girl. I'll be home tomorrow night around eight. Have dinner ready. I'm going to stay with Camilla this week. I don't think you meeting her would be a good idea. I can't have anything messing this up. Do you understand?" He asked me, coolly.

"Yes," I replied, weakly.

"Good." He hung up. I sighed and set my phone down. By the way that Peter was looking at me, I knew that he had heard the entire conversation.

"Is he always like that?" Peter asked me. It was too late to play dumb.

"Most of the time," I nodded, before finishing my glass. Peter refilled and looked at me, like I was about to break. "I'm okay." I whispered.

"Are you really?" His concern seeped into his voice and touched something inside of my uncomfortably. I shifted in my seat. I don't know how to handle any of this.

"Sure," I lied.

"We can talk about something else." He offered.

"Okay." I agreed. Peter started telling me about Derek's boy band stage. But, I mean, didn't we all have one? I guess Peter has a tape of Derek getting down with his bad self, dancing along with an N*Sync music video. I could only pray that I'd be able to see it one day. I doubt that Stiles would ever let him live it down, if he ever found out. "Does Stiles know?" I asked him. Peter smirked and shook his head.

"I'm thinking that it'll make for the perfect wedding gift, one day. I think playing it at their reception would be grand. Don't you?" He asked. I giggled.

"I do."

"You should do that more often." Peter commented. I looked over at him, confused.

"What?"

"Smile, laugh, both," he breathed, before bringing his lips to mine. I couldn't help myself, when I clung to him. He picked me up, easily. I knew that we were heading to his bedroom and I didn't care. His lips trailed along my neck and I shuddered against him. He moved his hand up my shirt and I didn't stop him. We pulled apart long enough for Peter to take off his shirt and help me with mine. I reached up for him and kissed him with renewed wanting. He clutched me to him. He laid me on my back and started kissing my shoulder, before slowly moving down.

He stilled his movements and moved away from me. I sat up and realized that he was staring my torso. How could I have been so careless? I have more than a few bruises there that I can't explain. He's not going to believe I'm  _ **that**_ clumsy. I rushed off of the bed and scrambled to find my shirt. I jumped, when I felt Peter's fingers on my bruises. I turned to slap them away.

"Don't," I warned him.

"He does that to you?" He asked me, quietly. He had a murderous look in his eyes. I shook my head, still trying to deny it.

"No, I just had an accident a few days ago. It's nothing. I should go. I've got to go." I moved past him and left his room. He caught me by my arm and pulled me back to him.

"Don't lie to me." He looked me in the eyes and I felt the unflinching way that he cared. I don't know how, he barely knows me. We barely know each other.

"It doesn't matter. Okay? He's my dad. I'm not eighteen. I can't leave, even if I wanted to. Just drop it." I told him, before going to the kitchen to grab my things, as fast as my legs would take me.

"I keep my spare key in the potted plant hanging on my porch. If you ever need a safe place to escape to, come here." He called after me. I froze.

"Why?"

"I don't want your father to kill you, before you've had a chance to really live. You don't even know what you are."

"What do you mean what I am?" I asked him. He didn't say anything more. "Just keep this to yourself, okay? He can't find out that you know or that I told you… or that we're… whatever this is. He'll… Just don't. Okay?" I asked him. He looked grim, but he nodded, anyway. I walked home, knowing that it would be a miracle if I would be able to sleep at all tonight.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This kept playing through my head, when I couldn't sleep this morning. So, I figured I ought to write it down at some point. Things get kinda dark this chapter. You've been warned.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Five:

* * *

I got maybe an hour of sleep. Honestly, that's more than I thought that I would get. I tried to busy myself with doing things around the house, but there wasn't much to do, so I got an early start with dinner. I started to boil lasagna noodles, when I heard a lawn mower running suspiciously close to the house.

I went outside to look, letting my curiosity getting the best of me. Peter was mowing my lawn – shirtless. I gaped at him. He smirked at me, but didn't stop what he was doing. I just stood there and watched. From the looks of it, he had done most of it earlier. I don't know how I didn't notice earlier. It didn't take him long to finish. He started walking over to me, after he turned off the lawn mower. I got him a cold bottle of water from the fridge we kept in the garage. He took it silently and drank it all.

"Thank you." I told him, quietly. He shrugged, but his eyes told a different story, but then again, they always do. He looks amused and something else that I can't quite put my finger on.

"It was the neighborly thing to do." He replied.

"I have to finish putting dinner together, for my father." I went back into the house. I wasn't surprised when Peter followed me. He disposed of his empty water bottle as I turned off the water boiling the noodles. I set them aside, so they could cool off.

"I won't say anything, for now." He told me, quietly. I turned to face him and he stepped closer to me, invading my personal space.

"This isn't your business, Peter." I breathed, coolly.

"Isn't it?" He challenged me. He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. He's always so gentle with me. It's unnerving.

"I can handle this." I stood taller. I didn't ask him for his help.

"Can you?" He whispered, bringing his lips dangerously close to mine. He closed the distance between us and I felt myself giving into the kiss. "What if I want this to be my business?" He asked me, pulling away.

"It's not your choice." I turned my back to him and started prepping the lasagna. His arms went around my waist and he hugged me from behind. I don't know why his affection makes me feel things on such an intimate level.

"I'll be here, when you decide that you can't do this alone anymore. Is pride really more important than your safety?" He asked me in a firm voice. I pushed his hands off of me.

"Don't," I snapped. "Okay? Just don't. I really don't need you coming in here and reminding me that I'm completely incapable of taking care of myself. I have my father for that. I do the best I can and I really don't care if that's not good enough for you." I spun around to face him. He didn't seem fazed by my outburst.

"Everyone needs help, at some point in their lives." Peter continued, like I hadn't interrupted.

"Why do you care so much?" I whispered. Peter brought his lips to my temple and kissed me. His advances always feel so different from everything else that I've experienced in my life. They don't feel… purely desire driven. There's so much more to them, to him.

"I don't know." He replied, truthfully. "Why are you so afraid to let someone care about you?"

"People who care about me always end up hurt." I stiffened. "My father will be home soon. You should go." I told him. He nodded.

"I'll check on you later, sweetheart." He promised, before leaving me to my solitude. I waited until I heard the door close, before I broke down. Everything is such a damn mess. I hate it.

I wiped away my tears, before focusing on the task at hand. I finished prepping the lasagna and started on the chocolate lava cake. I really don't know what all my father is expecting, but I don't want to make it easy for him to be disappointed. I put an easy tossed salad together and put the lasagna together. I went upstairs to shower and clean up. I'm trying to brace myself for what's to come, but no matter how hard I try, it always seems to be impossible.

* * *

"The house looks good." My father remarked, as he walked through the house. I hated how my heart soared at the small compliment. I don't know why everything he says affects me so much. I wish that it didn't. It make things so much easier to bear.

"Thank you." I replied, quietly.

"The lawn is even mowed." He actually sounded impressed.

"That, um, that was actually Peter. I didn't even realize that he was doing it. I went outside and he was cutting our grass, after he finished with his, while I was making dinner." I told my father. I rubbed my arm, nervously. My father nodded.

"Why don't you go invite him to dinner?" He suggested. "Unless, you don't think that you can handle that, without messing it up?" He jibed. I stiffened and shrank a bit under his gaze.

"I can go." I replied, meekly. He nodded.

"Good. Make sure that you don't burn dinner, first." He advised me, just as the timer for the lasagna started going off. I hurried to the kitchen and took it out of the oven. I placed it on a couple of pot holders on the counter to cool and turned off the over. I checked on lava cake in the slow cooker and turned the heat down to warm. I wiped my hands on yoga pants nervously. "Is there anything you want to tell me, about what you were doing while I was gone?" My father asked from behind me. I shook my head.

"No," I whispered. He nodded, accepting my answer. "If you want, I can start washing your clothes from your trip, before I go over to Peter's? That way, they'll be clean and you can take them with you this week." He offered. He seemed to be pleased with my initiative.

"Yes, thank you. That's my girl." He smiled and gestured to the bag that he had left in the laundry room. It didn't take me long to get the clothes started. I headed over to Peter's nervously. I knocked on his door, half hoping that he wouldn't be home. He opened the door and genuine surprise covered his face.

"Is everything alright, sweetheart?" He asked me. I nodded, but stared at my feet.

"My father would like to invite you to dinner, to thank you for mowing our lawn." I explained, gingerly.

"I would be delighted." He told me. I looked up at him and saw that he was completely serious. "Give me just a moment." He disappeared into his house and I waited from him by his door. He returned with shoes on and a bottle of nice looking scotch.

"You really don't have to." I told him. He just smirked.

"Nonsense," he disagreed. "Let's go, shall we?"

* * *

I was nervous, as I carried the food over to the table. Peter and my father were talking and it didn't seem to be forced. At least there's someone around here that my father doesn't hate. Once the salad was on the table, I got two tumblers with ice and carried them over. I set one down in front of my dad and one in front of Peter.

"Thank you." He offered his gratitude quietly.

"You're welcome." I replied, before my father could say anything. I grabbed a bottle of water for myself, and debated whether or not to bring the scotch to the table. My father hates me handling alcohol. "Dad, do you want me to bring you the scotch?" I asked. He looked over at me and his gaze immediately hardened.

"I'll get it. I can't have you sneaking some of it. Now, can I?" He replied.

"I wouldn't." I told him, once he was in the kitchen. He gripped my upper arm hard enough to bruise.

"Did I ask for backtalk?" He snapped, quietly. I shook my head, frantically. "Just do as you're told and stay quiet. You hear?" He growled. I nodded, but he still didn't release me from his grip. "I should have had a son." He shook his head. He released me. I took a step back from him and walked over to the table. I sat down in between Peter and my father. I tried to ignore my trembling. I felt Peter's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up at him. I just stayed quiet and focused on the table. Once my father sat down, I started dishing food onto plates for everyone, before he could complain. I waited until my dad started to eat, to touch my food. He didn't say anything, just ate quietly. Peter made a noise that sounded surprisingly like a moan, when he took his first bite of lasagna.

"You make a mean lasagna." He told me, before he went for his second bite. I stifled a small smile.

"Thank you." I replied. My father poured some scotch into his glass and passed the bottle to Peter. He poured a little into his glass.

* * *

Dinner passed without incident. They both seemed to like their food. I managed to stomach most of mine. Being around my father normally kills any appetite that I have. I noticed my father's empty plate and I began to clear the dinnerware from the table.

"Do you need any help, Bonnie?" Peter offered. I shot a panicked look at him and shook my head.

"No, that's alright. I can handle this. Thank you, though." I declined his offer. I carried everything to the kitchen and began to rinse the leftover food off of the dishes, before loading them into the dishwasher. "Would you like dessert?" I asked them, walking back into the dining room. "It's chocolate lava cake – your favorite." I directed to my father. He seemed to think it over, before nodding. "Ice cream?" I pressed. He nodded again. I looked over at Peter and he nodded, too.

I started dishing out dessert. I carried my father's and Peter's to the table and gave them clean spoons. I started to head back to the kitchen, when my father stopped me.

"Are you eating any?" He asked me. I stopped where I was and turned to face him.

"I was going to have a little." I replied, truthfully. His lips pressed together and a thin line and I knew that something bad was coming.

"Maybe you should skip dessert tonight, Bonnie. You don't want to put on too much weight. Do you?" He asked me. I blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. I'm beyond mortified. I'm pretty in shape. I'm thin, by most people's standards.

"No," I whispered. He glanced over at Peter and saw Peter's distain for how he had talked to me.

"Maybe just a little bit wouldn't hurt," he added. I nodded.

"Would you like more scotch?" I asked him.

"What did I tell you earlier?! I don't want you touching it. I can get it myself. Is there something wrong with your ears, girl?" He snapped. I shook my head.

"No, I'm sorry, daddy. I forgot." I apologized. I disappeared into the kitchen put a tiny bit of cake into a bowl for myself and left off the ice cream. I don't want to give him more to be mad about.

"Is that really necessary? Do you really need to embarrass me in front of everyone?" My father hissed at me, through his teeth, as he followed me into the kitchen. I shook my head.

"No, I'm sorry, daddy. It wasn't intentional." I tripped over myself apologizing, but he wasn't having that. He grabbed me by my neck and backed me against the fridge. I struggled to breathe, but didn't make a sound. I know better. I grimaced, but took it.

"This is exactly why I wouldn't allow you to meet Camilla. What do you think she would do if she found out that I had an invalid for a daughter?" He growled. "Since you seem so keen on pouring the scotch, why don't you refill our glasses? Now." He released me and I coughed, trying to catch my breath. I grabbed the bottle and moved quickly to do as he asked. I refused to look at Peter, as I returned to the table. I took the bottle back to the kitchen and my dad watched my every move. "Did you sneak any?" He asked me. I shook my head and looked up at him with wide eyes. "And why I should I believe you?" He pressed. I didn't say anything. He's not going to listen to anything I say, anyway. I didn't even see the blow coming. I just felt the sting. He backhanded me and I lost my balance, falling to the floor. The bottle in my hands shattered underneath me. I winced as I felt broken pieces of glass cut through my shirt and into my flesh. "Now look what you did!" He snapped, making sure to keep his voice down. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet. I grimaced and he walked me to the through the kitchen, to the laundry room, to the garage. He grabbed an empty box and threw it towards the door inside. "Why can't you do anything right?" He asked me.

"I'm sorry." I huffed, doing my best not to dwell on the pain.

"The next time you decide to break something, I'm going to break something of yours." No sooner had the words left his lips, had his hand gripped my wrist. He twisted and I felt somethingshatter under his grip. I cried out. He pushed me against the wall and hit me in the stomach. I whimpered. The next blow was just as bad. It landed on my chest. He hit me once more for good measure, before he let me go. I fell to my knees. His phone went off. "Go inside and clean it up." He dismissed me. I grabbed the box and hurried inside. Peter was waiting for me in the kitchen. I grabbed a garbage bag and set it in the box, so I could pick up the glass. Peter bent down to help me.

"Don't, Peter, please," I begged. He stilled his movements and stood back up to watch me. He was livid. I cleaned up the glass as quickly as I could. I ignored the little cuts that I was getting from the broken glass. I used paper towels to get the scotch off of the floor, before going back over everything with a wet sponge, trying to find any small shards that I could have missed. I set the box aside and filled the sink with hot, soapy water. I mopped the floor still reeking of alcohol. I jumped when I heard the garage door open. I pushed Peter towards the dining room, with my good hand, but he stayed where he was.

"You cleaned up your mess?" My father asked me, coldly. I nodded. I wheezed as I moved wrong. My chest feels so tight.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked me. I nodded, even though I knew that I wasn't.

"She must have hurt herself when she tripped with the scotch. Isn't that right, Bonnie?" My father gave me a hard stare. I nodded. "That was Camilla. She wants me to come back tonight. I nodded.

"You don't look alright. You need to go to a hospital." Peter pressed. My father looked indifferent.

"Finish my clothes, and then you can go. You can drive yourself." He told me. I nodded, suddenly thankful that I had switched over his clothes during dinner. I started folding his clothes, trying not to move my wrist.

"I'll take her. Someone has to look after her." Peter seethed. I finished folding his clothes and put them back in his bag. I carried the bag over to my father.

"She can take care of herself. But if you want to waste your time taking her, I'm not going to stop you." My father replied. "I'll see you Friday evening. Try not to burn down the house." He added, before walking away. It's Sunday night. That gives me five days without him. Thank God.

"Come on. I'm taking you to the hospital." Peter told me. I nodded. I stink of booze.

"Can I shower first?" I asked him. He shook his head. He grabbed my purse for me and I slid on a pair of flip-flops. As we walked outside, my father was still loading things in his car.

"Oh, Peter, I was hoping you wouldn't mind keeping our spare key? Bonnie has the tendency to lose hers." My father asked him, handing him a key to our house.

"It would be no trouble at all." Peter replied, emotionless.

"Great," my dad replied, before leaving. Peter helped me to his car and we drove in silence.

"You can't stay there." He told me. I sighed. He's right. I know he's right, but I'm still a minor. There's no way that my father will just let me go. "Once you're legally an adult, he can't stop you from leaving. You have other places you can stay."

"Like where?" I let out a humorless laugh and immediately regretted it, when my chest filled with pain.

"With me," the offer was out there and it wasn't something that he could take back.

"Peter…"

"I have a guest room. You can stay there. Or you could stay with Stiles. His father is the sheriff. I would like to see your father explain your injuries to him." He huffed.

"Maybe, once I'm eighteen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next chapter is going to pick back up right around here. I was gonna write more, but I'm exhausted. Peter has his reasons for not interfering more than he already is. More will be explained in upcoming chapters. Reviews are love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey all! Hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Six:

* * *

Peter helped me walk into the hospital. I was limping. I don't remember hitting my knee, but I'm really not surprised that I didn't feel it until now. I wanted to tell him that I could walk on my own, but I doubt he would let me and at the moment, I'm not so sure that I could. My pain is just getting worse – it's not relenting at all.

"Peter," a pretty brunette woman greeted him, as she got up from her desk and walked over to us. "Is everything okay? What are you doing here?" She asked him.

"Melissa, this is my friend Bonnie. She's my new neighbor. She is in need of medical attention." Peter explained. She looked over at me and took in my appearance. Her mouth twisted into a grimace as she noticed my injuries.

"Oh, my God, come on. Let's take a look at you. I'll bring the paperwork and Peter can fill it out for you, while I see how much damage is done." She told me. She pulled me closer to her and handed Peter the paperwork. She leads to an empty patient room and has me sit on the bed. "Can you tell me what happened?" She has mom eyes. You know, that look that only a mother can give you? It's the same look that I used to get from Grams.

"Oh, you know… just fell down a flight of stairs and hit my head on the banister." I lied. She didn't look like she believed me and Peter scowled at me as he skimmed the insurance paperwork.

"If that's your story," she mused, but didn't press the issue. I let her go through her evaluation. I didn't say anything, unless she asked me something directly. I only asked that Peter was allowed to stay with me, during the examination. It took all of my effort just to try and not zone out and shut down during the entire thing. "Do you have any injuries that I can't see?" Melissa asked me. I nodded.

"I'll have to take off some of my clothes." I told her.

"Do you need help? Peter can wait outside, if you'll be more comfortable." She offered.

"Help would be nice, but he can stay." I replied. She helped me to my feet and helped me get my shirt off. I kicked off my flip-flops and struggled with my leggings, but I managed to get them off without too much assistance.

"Oh, my God," Melissa whispered softly. "I'm going to need to get the glass out, before we do anything else. Okay?"

"That's fine." I replied.

"I can't give you anything for the pain, until I know the extent of your injuries. I'm sorry." She apologized.

"That's fine. It won't bother me."

* * *

I didn't really focus on what Melissa was doing. I don't know how long it took her to remove all of the glass. I knew that I had glass in my hands, arms, stomach, side and maybe some in my legs. She started to clean them up and only then did I begin to focus on what was happening again. The sting took away some of the numbness I was feeling.

Once I was bandaged up, she began pressing on the bruises on my torso to assess the damage. I winced and hissed, when she pressed on my chest. She made a face.

"I think you may have cracked or broken a rib or two." She frowned. Well, that's just wonderful news. Today just keeps getting better and better.

"Okay." I breathed. She moved her attention to my wrist. The wrist that my father had twisted. I'm pretty sure that it'll be miracle if it's not broken. The held it in her hands gingerly. She started pressing against it and I hissed in pain.

"Your wrist is located. I can't tell if it's sprained." She explained. I nodded. "You may want to hold her still." She told Peter. I glanced over at him, but he did as he was asked. The repositioned her hands, as Peter's hands gripped my shoulders, tightly. I gritted my teeth and tried to brace myself for the pain. "On the count of three, alright?" She told me. I nodded, again. "One, two –" she relocated my arm and I screamed. Peter's hand ended up in my good one and he peered down at me with eyes full of concern. My heart was racing.

* * *

I began to fill out the paperwork, after Melissa looked at my knee. I have severe bruising and a possible sprain. I must have landed funny, when I fell.

* * *

I had to have x-rays done, so that I could find out the extent of my injuries. Melissa was right about my ribs. Two of my ribs are broken, I have a mild sprain in my knee, a severe sprain in my wrist, severe bruising, and cuts from the glass. Lucky me.

"So, are you the Bonnie that Stiles keeps talking about?" Melissa asked me, as I waited on my prescriptions from the doctor. I nodded, feeling the effects of the pain medication that they put me on. I had a hard cast on my wrist and a brace for my knee.

"You know Stiles?" I asked her, surprised. I feel a lot less on edge, thanks to the medicine.

"He's best friends with my son." She explained.

"Oh, you're Scott's mom!" I exclaimed, giggling. I winced, as I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Concern flashed across her face, but I knew that it was just because of my ribs.

"Yes, I am." She smiled.

"Is that how you know Peter?" I asked her. She nodded.

"You know, if someone is hurting you Bonnie… you can tell me." She told me, gently. I shook my head.

"If someone was hurting me and that someone was a parent of mine, then I would just get taken away from the only family that I have left. And if that was the case, then I would just wait until my eighteenth birthday at the end of the week, to say anything." I didn't confirm or deny her suspicions. These meds are making me feel all kinds of funny. I laughed, again and reached out and poked Nurse McCall on her nose. She seemed amused by my antics.

"Just take care of yourself. Okay?"

* * *

Peter helped me to the car. The hospital had been nice enough to fill my prescriptions, since the drug stores are all closed, right now. I stared at him, as he began driving.

"You're staying with me tonight." He told me, not bothering to ask if I cared or not.

"So bossy," I teased, before looking out the window.

"Someone needs to make sure that you don't further hurt yourself, sweetheart. I don't see anyone else doing it." He replied, briskly.

"Well, don't do me any favors. I can take of myself."

"Damn it, Bonnie! Will you just let me help you?!" He snapped.

"Why do you care?" I asked him, quietly.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Isn't it enough that I do?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Bonnie, I'm going to carry you inside. Alright?" Peter told me softly. I nodded, sleepily, in my seat. I guess I fell asleep on the way to Peter's. He unbuckled my seat belt and picked me up in his arms, like I weighed nothing. I couldn't shake how unnerving it was that I actually felt this safe because of one person. "What are you doing here?" I heard Peter ask. I was too out of it to look and see who it was. Between what happened today and these meds, my ass is sufficiently kicked.

"Melissa called me. She asked me to check on Bonnie later, but she wouldn't tell me what happened. Derek wanted to come with me and we were already with Lydia." I heard Stiles explain.

"I fell." I lied, groggily.

"You fell on what?" Stiles pried. I shrugged and felt my stomach start churning.

"Peter," I breathed.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He asked me, as he took me inside.

"I'm gonna be sick. I'm gonna be sick!" I told him, as I tried to will my stomach to behave.

"Hold on, sweetheart." He murmured, as he moved faster. He set me down next to the toilet and held my hair back, as my stomach started heaving. I threw up the contents on my stomach, which probably included some of the medicine. I dry heaved for a good five minutes after I finished throwing up. "All finished?" Peter asked me, gently. I nodded and flushed the toilet. He helped me to my feet and got me some water. I rinsed out my mouth and leaned against the sink. I feel dizzy, but I know it's not a concussion. The hospital would have caught that – right? I think it's just the stress from today and the strain it put on my body.

"Can I shower, please?" I asked him, softly. He looked over at me and nodded.

"I'll get you some things from your house." He offered. I nodded and stayed where I was. "I'll have Stiles stay with you, while I'm gone. I won't be gone long." He promised and kissed my forehead.

"Thank you." I whispered. He nodded and left. It didn't take Stiles long to come into the bathroom. He had a redhead trailing behind him. I guess Derek went with Peter.

"Oh, my God, Melissa wasn't exaggerating. Are you okay? Okay, that was a stupid question. I knew you told me that you were clumsy, but there's no way that you're this clumsy." Stiles lamented. I shrugged my shoulders, sleepily.

"I fell." I lied, again.

"A fall down the stairs wouldn't have caused the extent of your injuries. Do you always lie like this?" The redhead asked me.

"Is it your business?" I quipped. She pursed her lips together and tilted her head and looked at me, like she was thinking something over.

"Jesus Lydia, you don't even know her. You could've at least introduced yourself." Stiles scolded her, half-heartedly.

"My name is Lydia Martin and I wish you wouldn't treat me and my friends like we were stupid." She introduced herself with a strained smile.

"Well, ambushing someone right after they get out of the hospital and they are all hopped up on pain pills is a great idea." I replied in a similar tone. She smirked.

"Fine. Fair enough. Do you know how to wrap your cast?" She asked me instead. I shook my head. "Stiles, go get a trash bag and some duct tape." She ordered him. He left the room. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm protective of my friends. If you're in a sticky situation, you should be trying to get out of it, not lying to protect the jackass that did this to you." She lamented, as she helped me get out of my clothes. I had to lean against her, to keep my footing.

"I'm eighteen in a week. Okay? I can handle things until then. I wish everyone would just let it go. I'm not talking about it." I huffed.

"It's your choice." She let it go. She helped me out of my leggings and my knee brace. She made a face, when she saw my stomach. "I'm going to leave these bandages on, while you shower. Okay? I'll clean and re-bandage them, when you're done." She offered.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry for snapping at you. It's been such a long and shitty day." I apologized, frowning.

"Don't worry about it. We can try things again tomorrow."

"That sounds nice." I told her. Peter and Derek walked in. Derek didn't say anything, but he didn't look happy, either. Peter's expression mirrored his.

"Do you think you can shower alone?" Peter asked, quietly. I looked over at him and tried not to be embarrassed about the fact that now everyone here had seen me only in my undergarments.

"Peter! Where's your duct tape?! I can't find it!" Stiles yelled.

"I don't think so." I told him, truthfully.

"I'll help her. I'll run a bath." Lydia decided. Peter looked like he was going to object, but I nodded.

* * *

After Lydia wrapped my cast, Peter ran a bath. It was a little awkward to have Lydia help me wash myself, but I appreciated it. True to her word, Lydia cleaned out my wounds and re-bandaged them after my bath. She helped me get into clean underwear and sports bra that Peter had brought into the bathroom for me. I'm not even ready to think about Peter going through my underwear drawer, right now.

"Are you decent?" Peter asked from outside the bathroom door.

"You can come in." Lydia replied. I'm even more tired now, than I was earlier. I'm glad she answered for me. I'm exhausted. Peter came in carrying a shirt of his.

"I thought you might like something to sleep in, sweetheart." He explained.

"Thank you." I told him, quietly.

"Make sure she takes it easy. We'll be by to check in and hang out tomorrow. Don't worry. We'll leave everyone else at home. Maybe we'll bring Deaton." Lydia excused herself. "It was nice meeting you, Bonnie." She gave me a small smile and left the room.

"It was nice meeting you, too." I called behind her.

"See you tomorrow, Bonnie." Stiles poked his head into the bathroom to tell us goodnight. I laughed at the grin on his face.

"See you, Stiles. Tell Derek I said goodnight." I replied.

"Will do. See ya tomorrow, Bon." Stiles left and I heard the front door close, after a few seconds. Peter looked at me and it was hard not to blush. I shifted uncomfortably. The bra is digging into my chest and it's impossible to get comfortable. I know it's a sports bra, but damn.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Peter asked me, picking up on my discomfort.

"Just this stupid bra," I sighed. "I'll just take it off, before I put your shirt on." I turned around and managed to get the bra off. I held my hand behind me, so Peter could hand me his shirt. He placed it in my hands and I slipped it on. It's soft and it smells like him. It falls to my thighs. It covers enough. "Thank you."

* * *

I chose to stay in Peter's bed. Even though he offered to let me stay in his guest room, I just didn't want to be alone tonight. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind.

"I was serious about my offer earlier, sweetheart." Peter whispered, as I cuddled next to him. I was using his arm as a pillow and leaning into him. I had to lay on my back. It's the only position that my ribs want to cooperate in.

"I know." I replied. I may not be the smartest girl in the world, but at the very least, I like to think that I'm perceptive. I don't think that Peter has lied to me, yet. Maybe that's another reason that I can't seem to figure him out. His honesty is as refreshing as it is nerve-racking. Lies – I'm used to. Truth – that's a different story.

"What have you got to lose? Just try staying here, after your birthday? If your father is really that important to you, you would still be close enough, that you would be able to see him on a regular basis. At least you would have a safe place to sleep at night." He tried, again. He makes sense. He does. I know that he's right, but that doesn't mean that it's easy. If it was literally anyone else, but my father, I would have left long ago. I've never felt more alone in the world and I need my father in my life, in one way or another. I just don't know if he would be willing to let me go. At least if I was eighteen, he wouldn't legally be allowed to make me stay.

"I'll think about it. I promise." I told him. Peter moved so he was on his side and facing me. He stroked my cheek and I did my best not to wince. Is there any part of me that isn't covered with bruises?

"I hate seeing you beaten down like this. I hate what he does to. If he wasn't so important to you, I would give him a taste of his own medicine. I've done far worse to other people for far less." Peter mused. The unflinching honesty and sincerity intrigued me. What is it about him? I know that we just met… and I don't know how to describe it. We just seem to fit together, somehow. Is that even possible? "If he hurts you again, like this, I won't just stand idly by and watch." He warned me. I nodded.

"Okay." I agreed. Would that be the worst thing? I don't want my father to get hurt, but I also don't want to keep going through this, either. My thoughts are a whirlwind of contradiction. I'm such a fucking mess.

"You're stronger than this. It's okay to fight back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, this felt like a good place to end this chapter. I'll try to have a new chapter up soon-ish, but I'll be pretty busy this week. I have like a million and a half crochet projects in the works that need to be finished by next month. (I'm doing a charity thing with my mom-in-law, and unfortunately I don't have nearly as much done as I would like.) Reviews are welcomed!
> 
> Xo,  
> Anneryn


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another chapter, because this is what sometimes happens when I can't sleep.
> 
> Background: Bonnie and Rudy got to Beacon Hills right before fall break. That's why she hasn't been in school yet. If I missed anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know! The last thing I wanna do is confused my fantastic readers! :)
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.

Chapter Seven:

* * *

I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about what Peter said. His words kept replaying in my mind. My thoughts kept alternating between Peter and my father. I don't think that he's ever actually taken things that far before. He's given me bruises, but it's never been anything that bad. Would my father even stop himself, before things got bad enough? Would he actually try to kill me, someday?

I choked back a sob. There were too many what-ifs. It didn't help matters that my meds were wearing off, so everything was hurting like a bitch. I can't get comfortable. I don't know if it's because I'm not in my own bed, or if I just feel exposed here. Being here with Peter… when he knows what's been happening to me… and knowing that he sees me…  _ **really**_  sees me makes me feel unnerved. I feel so vulnerable. I'm not used to this. I don't know how to handle it.

"Bonnie," Peter whispered next to me. I jumped and winced, as pain radiated through my chest. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked me, softly. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me. I deflated in his embrace. There's just something about him that just makes me feel so at peace.

"Everything," I breathed, before I lost my internal battle against my tears. I felt them cascading down my cheeks. He didn't say anything else; he just held me. I felt so grateful to him for that.

"When you're healthy enough, I can teach you how to fight back. You should know how to defend yourself. You're more than capable. You just need to be shown how." He offered. I nodded, against his chest.

"Why are you so hell-bent on helping me?" I asked him. I pulled away enough to look at his face. "And don't give me some bullshit answer. I think we're both past that."

"Talia, my older sister, some pathetic excuse of a man thought it was alright to put his hands on her. I had always looked up to her. When she was in that situation, she wasn't strong enough to get out of it by herself. I helped her. She tried to leave him and he sent her to the hospital in a coma." He admitted. He didn't hesitate to tell me, but there was something about the way that he was saying it that made me think that he had never shared this with anyone, before.

"What happened to her? She died quite a few years later, but not because of that trash. I found him and explained that he would no longer be a part of her life. He declined, so I killed him. I never thought twice about it. The world is a better place without him. My sister wasn't the first woman he had hurt and she wouldn't have been the last."

"Did Talia ever find out?" I asked him.

"Yes," he answered me. "She wasn't brokenhearted over his death." He added. We sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence. I didn't move away from him and he didn't let go of me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this new information about Peter. I know that on some level, it probably should bother me, but it doesn't. I don't think any less of him. I'm not saying that anyone deserves to lose a life, but he did what he did to protect his family. I can't fault him on that. If someone had done that to my Grams… I would have done everything in my power to protect her. There's not any doubt in my mind. "If you're not tired, what do you say to some hot chocolate?" He offered.

"Hot tea?" I suggested instead. He chuckled.

"Let's see if we can find you something to eat. Taking the amount of medication that you're prescribed on an empty stomach wouldn't be wise." He maneuvered himself off of the bed, without letting go of me. He carried to living room. He went into the kitchen and bustled around, probably making tea and looking for a midnight snack for us.

Even though Peter and I aren't together, in some ways whatever it is that we have is already more substantial than whatever Jeremy and I shared. I don't know how to explain it. He makes me feel things deep inside myself that I didn't know existed. To say that we are kindred spirits… I'm not sure that would be right either. It's almost like our souls complement each other. I wish I understood why I feel for him on such a deep, intimate level. This isn't just a crush. This is something else. I just wish that I knew what.

"Hot tea, for the hot lady," Peter handed me a steaming mug with a wink. I blushed and took a sip. It's blackberry green tea, my favorite. How did he know?

"Thank you." I avoided making eye contact with him.

"Would you like applesauce or toast?" He asked me. I looked up at him.

"Applesauce on toast, please," I asked him. He smirked, but nodded and left to make it. I feel so relaxing. Ever since we got here, there's been something inside of me that has felt so restless, but in other ways, I feel so comfortable. Maybe it's the change of scenery or maybe it's just Beacon Hills? I've always felt better when I'm close to nature, but this is different…

"Have you eaten this before?" Peter asked me, as he sat down next to me, balancing two plates in one hand and another mug in the other. I nodded. He sat down one plate in front of me, on the coffee table, but kept one for himself.

"Are you brave enough to try it?" I laughed. He gave me a nervous look, but nodded.

"You first," he breathed.

"It's almost like a less spiced version of apple butter." I offered, before taking a bite of mine. I sighed contently. It's so good. Peter started to eat his. He seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Well, it's not terrible." He mused. I chuckled, as I finished my toast. "What was your grandmother like?" His question caught me off guard.

"She was amazing." I told him. I set my plate back down on the coffee table and took a sip of my tea, before continuing. "She was the strongest woman I've ever known. She really was this amazing force to reckon with. She was one of those people that just commanded your attention, when she walked into a room. You know? Not because she was threatening, or anything, she was just someone you couldn't help but respect and be drawn to. She was my mom's mom. My dad never really got along with her. She was his polar opposite. She believed in natural, spiritual healing. She was big on meditation and being one with the earth and respecting nature. She was always there for me. She was more of a mom to me than a grandmother, I guess." I explained.

"What happened to your mother?" Peter pressed. I shrugged.

"She bailed, when I was kid. She just left one day and she never came back. I never understood why or got an answer. Dad was always gone with work. Grams was my world. You know? Goddess, I really miss her. She always knew exactly what to do and what to say. She used to tell me the best stories and she always told me how important I was and I just really miss it. I guess I always thought that she was indestructible. She raised me right. She really did. She used to tell me how proud she was of the woman that I had become. And that's all I really wanted, really. I just wanted to be someone she could be proud of. I tried to always do the right thing and help people, when they needed it. You know? Every time my friends asked me for something, I was always there. I didn't talk back to her or my father. But now… I don't know. I don't know what she would think now. Goddess, she would be so disappointed in me." I sniffled and wiped my face with my free hand. "She raised me to be strong and I can't even stand up to my dad. What a fucking joke." I let out a humorless laugh. Peter frowned and watched me pensively.

"She wouldn't be disappointed in you." Peter argued. I looked up at him. "He's your father. You were raised to respect him and to do as you were told, without question. You're trying to survive a horrible situation. You have to come with terms with things yourself. You have to be ready to get out of that situation, or you'll just fall right back. I don't have to like it, but I won't judge you for it. I doubt your grandmother would do any different. But, you are strong enough to get through this."

"I'm not so sure, anymore." I disagreed. I set my tea down and tried to stop my pity party.

"You are. What would she want you to do?" He asked me.

"She wouldn't want me to let someone h-hit me." I hiccupped. Goddess, I'm so pathetic. I was crumbling. I knew that I was. Peter's arms were around me and he cradled my head against his chest. He let me breakdown.

"Why?" He pressed.

"She would tell me that I'm better than that. That I deserve better than that…" I said in between sobs. I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I'm strong enough to lose him, too. I've already lost so much. What will I have left? Am I strong enough to be alone?

"You  _ **do**_  deserve better than that. I'm going to keep reminding you of that, until you believe me. Do you hear me, sweetheart?" Peter asked me. I nodded against him. "Tell me more about her." He requested.

"She was kind. She had such a big heart." The more I explained, the less I cried. I was calming down. Peter let go of me and offered me a box of tissues to clean up my face with. "She used to tell me stories about the Bennett women. Supposedly, we were descendants of a long line of witches. She really believed it, too. I think she was. Isn't that crazy? She tried to get me to float some feathers once. It was the day before she…" I took a deep breath. "I don't know if it was my imagination, or it actually happened, or if she did it somehow, but they floated. I tried a couple of times after she died, but it never worked. I think it that was just Grams. You know? She was just… magic."

"We should get you to bed. Let's get your meds." Peter said, softly. I nodded. It hurt to talk about her, but it was almost a good hurt. It felt good to remember her, even if sorrow accompanied it. I miss her more than I can stand. She was my rock and now she's gone.

I let Peter help me to my feet. He gave me my pills. I took them and he carried me back to bed. I knew it was pointless to argue that I was more than capable of walking. He held me and my head swam with uncomfortable memories. More tears leaked down my face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset, by asking about your Grams." Peter apologized.

"You didn't. It's okay." I assured him. He seemed to accept it. He placed his lips on my temple and kissed me tenderly. I tilted my face, so I could look up at him. His lips hovered over mine, like he wasn't sure if kissing me now would be a good idea. "Kiss me." I breathed. And he did. He kissed me and I felt like I was connected to the earth again. I felt grounded. I felt like he was saving me from drowning in a suffocating sea of emotion. It felt like he was the anchor that was keeping me from being pulled away in the dark abyss. "Do you feel that, too?" I asked him, breaking the kissed. He looked me in the eyes. Even though it was dark, I could tell that he knew what I was asking him.

"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: More will be explained in upcoming chapters. Stay tuned! Reviews would be lovely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My husband is coming home from his deployment soon. Needless to say, it's been nearly impossible for me to focus on anything else. I have tons of ideas for updates and one-shots, but when I go to sit down and try to write them out – nada. Bear with me, lovelies! It's not for lack of trying. I promise.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, OR THE CHARACTERS.

Morning came too soon. I winced as I sat up. I looked next to me and realized that Peter had already gotten out of bed. I could hear him talking with someone in another part of the house. I took a deep breath and managed to drag myself out of bed. I padded over to the bathroom, slowly. I brushed my teeth and went through as much of my morning routine, as I could, by myself.

I spotted my bag that Peter must have brought over last night. I pulled out a pair of leggings and got them on, without too much struggle. My knee is smarting, like nobody's business today. I grabbed my meds and ventured out into Peter's house, trying to pinpoint where the voices were coming from.

I noticed Peter, before he noticed me. He was having what looked like a heated discussion with a man I had never met in his kitchen. He looked over at me and his face immediately softened. He reached out for me and pulled me into his arms. I sighed in contentment as I rested my face against his chest.

"Sweetheart, there's someone I would like you to meet." Peter told me, softly. I lifted my face and had to force myself not to let my gaze linger on his sinfully attractive face. I looked over at the man who I had yet to be introduced to.

"My name is Alan Deaton. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bonnie. Peter has told me a little about you. I knew your grandmother, once." The man introduced. That caught my interest. I stared at him, not sure what to think. I offered him my hand, after the initial surprise wore off. His hand shocked me and pulled it away from him. Even Alan seemed to be surprised by what happened.

"What was that?" I asked him. He looked pensive. I wondered if he would even answer me.

"It has been said to happen when two magic wielders make physical contact. It's not common, but not unheard of." He explained.

"Magic? Are you high?" I exclaimed, before I could stop myself. Peter chuckled and Alan looked equally amused.

"Do you not know who or what you are?" Alan asked me in disbelief.

"Is that a trick question? I'm a Bennett. I'm a human. What else is there?"

"What was your Grams, sweetheart?" Peter pressed. And just like that it dawned on me. It clicked in my brain. I understood what he was asking me.

"What? I'm not a witch. I'm not. My Grams was, but not me. I can't do what she did." I argued.

"Your powers have to manifest, Bonnie. They should be fully manifested, by your eighteen birthday." Alan explained.

"No offense, Alan, but just because you knew Grams doesn't mean that I can trust you." My mouth was doing all of the talking, before my brain could even process what was being said.

"May I?" Alan asked, gesturing to my hand. I glanced up at Peter and he just nodded. I mirrored Peter and nodded, giving him the okay. Alan took my hand in his and flashes of his meetings with Grams flashed before my eyes. How is this even possible? They weren't just friends – they were close. They practiced magic together. He's telling the truth. Goddess, there are so many things that I'll never know about my Grams and so many things that she'll never get a chance to tell me. It's not fair. Why, of all people, did she have to die? I'm so lost without her. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

I moved my hand away from Alan's, before he was finished. I couldn't see anymore. Her death is too fresh. It hurts too much. I could feel my resolve begin to crumble. I was drowning in a sea of sorrow and I wasn't sure how I was going to pull myself out, this time. Peter interlaced his fingers with me and I felt tethered to reality, again.

"That doesn't mean that I have magic, like she did." My voice cracked and I did my best to ignore it.

"You have to open yourself up to the possibility. You have it within you. You just need help bringing it out. Practice meditation, especially in nature. Let the earth calm and rejuvenate you. When you're ready to explore more, Peter knows how to get a hold of me." Alan told me. I nodded, numbly. "I trust you two have other things to discuss. I'll be in touch." Just like that, he left. Peter cleared his throat, as soon as he heard his front door close.

"Deaton means well, sweetheart." Peter assured me. I scowled and looked up at him.

"A little warning would have been nice." I sighed.

"Forgive me?" He asked, as his lips lowered closer to mine. I nodded and then he was kissing me. I gasped against his mouth and his tongue quickly found mine. I tried to stand taller and pushed myself onto my tiptoes. I ignored the sting in my knee. His hand moved to the small of my back to help support me. His other hand cupped the side of my face, as we kissed. I pulled away, just enough to catch my breath. I looked up at him and his eyes weren't flashing, but they were a brilliant, glowing blue. A blue that couldn't be natural.

"What are _**you**_?" I asked him. He didn't answer me. I raised my good arm and traced the outside of his eyelids. I could feel his breathing quicken. "Is that how you knew that I'm supposedly a witch?" I pressed. He just nodded. "Peter?" My voice grew softer. I don't think that he'd hurt me, but that fact that he isn't answering my questions is making me nervous.

"I'm a werewolf." He replied, finally. I just nodded. "I would never hurt you." His words were heartbreakingly sincere.

"I know." I breathed. He offered me a small smile. It wasn't the smirk that I'd become accustomed to seeing. It was an actual, genuine Peter Hale smile.

"I don't think that you're ready to know everything." He admitted. Before I could ask him what he meant by that, someone knocked on his door. He kissed my forehead and left to answer it. It was Alan.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I seem to have forgotten my book." Alan explained, as he and Peter made their way back to the kitchen. It was only then, that I saw something that looked a little like Grams' old grimoire. I never understood what it was, but she always had it close by.

"What do you mean by everything?" I asked Peter. I don't want to pussyfoot around the issue. I just want to know. Not knowing is putting me on edge.

"You told her?" Alan asked Peter. Peter sighed.

"Not everything, Alan." Peter clarified.

"What did you tell her?" Alan pressed.

"That I'm a werewolf."

"How is that not everything?" I asked him. Alan looked between both of us.

"Why don't the three of us sit down?" He offered. Peter offered me his hand. I took it without hesitation. I still trust him. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to explain why.

"Peter isn't the only supernatural being in Beacon Hills. Beacon Hills lives up to its name. It's an actual beacon of sorts. Peter is part of a pack. He is a beta werewolf. He has an alpha and there are other betas that make up the pack." Deaton explained. I shook my head, trying to wrap my head around everything.

"That's everything?" I asked, deciding that I could freak out about what I had just learned later.

"Perhaps Peter should explain the rest," Alan declined to answer my question. My eyes flitted over to Peter. He looked uncomfortable, for the first time today.

"You're my mate." He answered, quietly.

"What?" I deadpanned.

"It's not as intimidating as it sounds." Alan spoke up. "It's more than physical attraction for Peter. His wolf craves you. He has an intense need to protect you."

"You aren't obligated to do anything, sweetheart. I would never dream of pressuring you. I would never hurt you." He reiterated what he told me earlier.

"Mate?" I echoed, still trying to process this. "As in… actual mate? Like we're supposed to _**mate**_ one day?" I was officially freaking out.

"That's an option, but I would never force you." Peter cupped my cheek and moved his body, so it was facing mine. "You have a say in all of this. The power is yours. If you want me to stay away, then I will keep my distance. The only thing I cannot promise is your father's safety, should he choose to harm you." Peter tried to explain.

"It's my choice?" I asked him. He nodded. The tightness that had been building in my chest started to dissipate. I took a deep breath. "Can't… Can't we just… Can't we just keep things like they have been and just see what happens? This is a lot. I don't… I don't think I can deal with all of this, right now. I'm sore and I'm tired." I ranted. As soon as I finished, my stomach chose that moment to growl. Peter chuckled and it immediately lightened up the mood.

"Do you have any questions, Bonnie?" Alan asked me, gently.

"Does this mate thing mean anything for me?" I asked him. "If it affects Peter and his wolf, does it affect me, too?"

"In most cases, both mates are drawn to each other. With that being said, their relationships all differ. There aren't any rules, per se about what needs to happen between mates. Just know that the two of you are stronger together, than you are apart." He explained. I nodded.

"So… Mother Nature basically decided that we're destined to date?" I tried to joke. Peter smirked.

"Why don't I make you something to eat and you can take your meds. We can talk about this as much as you like." Peter offered. Alan's phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and sighed.

"I really must be going, but feel free to ask me any questions, should anything come to mind." Deaton grabbed his book and excused himself.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I asked Peter.

"Lydia is a banshee." He shrugged. I nodded, quietly. "The rest of the pack would probably prefer to reveal themselves in person."

* * *

True to his word, Peter made breakfast. He was patient with me and answered all of my questions to the best of his ability. The reality of everything was slowly starting to sink in. I still wasn't sure how comfortable I was being considered someone's _**mate**_ , but if everything they told me was true, then nothing really changes. I think that I was psyching myself out, more than anything.

The fact that Peter is a werewolf and has skeletons in his closet – so to speak – doesn't bother me. Maybe it should? But it doesn't. The moment I met him, I knew that there was something different about him. At least now, I know what that something is.

He told me a little bit about his family and what happened to them. I did my best to just listen and not pry or ask too many questions about them. He puts on a brave face, but I can see the hurt that he does his best to hide, underneath his tough guy exterior.

I told him what it was like growing up in Mystic Falls and how father used to be, before my Grams died. Things were so different back then. He was different back then. _**I**_ was different.

* * *

"So much for just being friends, huh?" I teased him, a little out of it, because of the meds I was on. He chuckled.

"I would be more than happy to be much more than just your friend, as soon as you're of age." He laughed.

"Is that your way of calling me jailbait?" I asked him. He nodded and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips.

"It is."

* * *

Stiles, Scott and Lydia are supposed to come by tomorrow. Peter asked them to give us some time to ourselves today. Now that everything has started to sink in, I just have this gut feeling, like knowing them, knowing _**about**_ them is a good thing and not the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay everyone, Bonnie's father will make an appearance next chapter. Reviews would be awesome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SO, this is way longer, than I initially thought that it would be, but I'm pretty satisfied with how it ended up. Reviews are always appreciated!
> 
> Okay everyone, here's the scoop. So, I know that my updates have sporadic and lacking. My husband got back from his deployment and we've had tons of family stuff going on. I start a new job tomorrow. So, I'll be working two jobs for a while. I'm also in the process of getting my CDA, which (thankfully) my new job is paying for. My husband is taking classes full time. SO needless to say, things are freaking chaotic on my side. If y'all could just bear with me and be patient, that would be great. Sadly, I don't get paid to stay home and write fanfiction. :( (But how awesome would that be, if I did?!)
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.

A loud banging jolted me away. I jumped and felt myself start to fall backwards, but Peter's arms steadied me. I gave him a questioning look, but he just motioned for me to stay where I was. He took a deep breath and concentrated. His face immediately darkened. He picked up my bag, my medication bottles, my purse and me and rushed me to his guest room, before hurriedly tucking me in.

"It's your father. Stay here. I'll see what he wants. Don't move." He ordered me. My blood immediately ran cold.

"Peter…" I tried to argue with him, but he just shook his head.

"Do you trust me?" He asked me.

"Of course," I replied.

"Then trust me on this." And with that, he was gone. His house isn't very big and he left the door open. The guest room is close to the entry way of his house. I can hear everything. "Hello Rudy," Peter greeted him with a pleasant, nonchalant voice.

"Peter," My father responded, gruffly. "Have you seen my daughter? She knew that I wouldn't be home, until the end of the week, but some things have come up and I had to drop by the house for a few things. She wasn't there. I'm worried." He explained. My dad is a lot of things, but he definitely doesn't sound worried – he sounds _**pissed**_.

"I have. She's here. I asked her to stay in my guest room, for the time-being. She was rather insistent on staying home, but I'm afraid that I refused to take no for an answer. She is having a devil of a time walking and getting around on her own, with her injuries." Peter answered, coolly. It didn't take a rocket scientist to pick up what Peter was putting down. There's no way my father still believes that Peter could possibly think that my injuries were from a fall. "She has two broken ribs, a sprained wrist and knee, not to mention severe bruises. Oh, and I almost forgot about all of her cuts from the broken glass." Peter didn't make any effort to veil his accusations. My father cleared his throat. I've never been on this end of things before. I have no idea how things will pay out or how my father will react to Peter standing up for me.

"Yes, well, _**my**_ Bonnie has always been a clumsy girl." My father continued to lie through his teeth.

"Yes, well, if I'm not mistaken, she'll be a clumsy woman by the end of the week. Her birthday is coming up soon. Isn't that right?" Peter asked him, conversationally.

"What does that have to do anything?" My father asked nastily, dropping the polite façade that he's so keen on holding onto.

"Once Bonnie is eighteen, she will be free to do as she pleases. She won't be tethered to you any longer. Nor will she have to continue to put up with your abuse." Peter replied in an equally icy tone.

"Hold on a minute, I don't like what you're implying." He yelled.

"And I don't appreciate you putting your hands on your daughter without consequence. The sheriff happens to be a very close friend of mine. I'm sure that he would find Bonnie's situation very interesting. Don't you? Not to mention that the nurse that tended to your daughter's injuries is another good friend of mine. I'm sure that she wouldn't mind accompanying me down to the sheriff's department for a quick chat."

"What do you want?" My father hissed.

"I want you to stay away from Bonnie, until her eighteenth birthday, until she is legally old enough to decide what is best for her. I will not allow you to put your hands on her again."

"I'll leave her alone for now, but this is far from over. She is _**my**_ daughter. Nothing will ever change that." He growled. My throat fell into my stomach. Did that really happen? I feel like I'm stuck in the twilight zone. There's no way that actually just happened. Peter stood up to my father and stuck up for me and won?

The door shut and locked, before I heard walking back to me. The expression on his face is unreadable. He sat down next to me and put a hand on mine. I looked down at our hands and realized that I was shaking.

"Did he leave?" I asked stupidly. I had heard the entire conversation, and yet I'm still struggling to believe that it's actually true. Peter nodded and watched me intently, waiting for some delayed reaction. I wasn't sure what he was expecting or how to deal with any of this. I jumped, when my phone started ringing. I didn't have to look at the Caller ID to see who it was. I already knew that it was my father. There's no way that he would take a showdown like that laying down or just walk away from this, from _**me**_ , quietly. "H-hello," I answered, shakily. Peter's hand on mine tightened and gave mine a reassuring squeeze.

"You little bitch! I should have known that you couldn't keep that stupid mouth of yours shut! You didn't even know Peter a week, before you went running to him! Why can't you just following fucking instructions for once in your pathetic life?!" He snarled. My throat tightened and I felt a chill run down my back. "You're going to pay for this! Do you hear me! I don't give a damn if you're almost eighteen! Do you think that will keep me away from you?! There is nowhere that you can hide, that I can't find you! Do you really think he wants some little jailbait slut like you? You're just a broken, pathetic mess of a little girl. No one will want you. Your mother didn't and I sure as hell don't. Do you honestly think that anyone could ever love you?" He hissed. I felt tears start to pool in my eyes. My nose burned, but I willed myself to keep them from falling. "Your grandmother only stuck around out of pity. She thought she owed it to you, because you were blood. She never loved you. You can't seriously believe that she did. No one ever will, Bonnie. Mark my words. If you even try to leave me, I will kill you. Do you understand? If you don't have your ass back home by your birthday, you're dead." He ended the call and sat frozen. I couldn't move. That – that really just happened… Didn't it? The other shoe finally fell and it was worse than I expected.

"Sweetheart," Peter whispered. I shook my head and refused to look up at him and meet his gaze. I can't take any pity right now. I would break. It's taking everything inside of me just to hold it together, right now.

"I should get home." I told him quietly and cleared my throat, trying to keep my tears and emotions at bay.

"No." He refused simply.

"What?" I asked him, trying to get off of the guest bed. His arms held me softly, and he stilled my movements.

"No." He repeated. I shook my head.

"I wasn't asking for your permission and you can't keep me here." I told him.

"I don't care and I can. You're not going back to him. I will not watch him kill you. Do you understand me? You may not want me as a mate and that's fine. But I cannot and will not watch you kill yourself." His voice was soft and deep and commanding. I knew that this was a fight that I would lose. I knew in my gut that it was pointless to argue with Peter, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to.

There's no way that it could actually be that easy. I couldn't just move in with Peter and live fancy-free. My father would never allow it. He'll never stop, until he gets what he wants. And he wants to control me. I don't know how to stop it or how things will turn out, but I know that there is no way that things will end well.

"We're going to the sheriff's department today. Stiles, Derek and Melissa will meet us there. You're going to file an official report. I will give my statement, as will Melissa. They will take pictures of your injuries and document them. If he even tries to come after you again, he will arrested." Peter decided.

"Peter…"

"This is the cleanest, easiest way. If it was anyone else, he would already be dead, sweetheart. I doubt you want your father's death lingering on your conscience." He didn't seem pleased by what he had decided. I don't know Peter that well. I'm not deluding myself into thinking that I do, but I believe him, when he says that he would kill him, if it weren't for me.

"Okay," I agreed feebly. I'm not happy about it, but I don't think that there's anything else that I can really do. Nothing else that will work, anyway. My phone started chiming and I was automatically afraid to check it. Peter picked up my phone and looked at me, like he was asking for my permission. I nodded and he checked my texts.

"' _I meant what I said. This isn't over. Do you hear me, little girl?'_ " Peter read the first message aloud. I shuddered. " _'I don't care what you think you can give Peter, but you're MINE. You had better not tell anyone else about what goes on in our home. Do you understand me?!'_ He's making this too easy." Peter seemed amused by my father's stupidity. It didn't make hearing his threats any easier, though. I wish that it did. " _'No one can help you, Bonnie. You've made your bed and now you're gonna pay for it. If you aren't home Saturday, then I will kill you. I promise you that I'm not exaggerating. No one would miss you. Camilla and I would continue on, as if nothing changed. At least you'd get see your grandmother, though. It wouldn't matter. She never should have died. It should have been you.'_ " Peter's voice trailed off, after the last text. My phone kept chiming, but he didn't read out any of the others. I can only assume that they were worse than rest. That's all it took for my resolve to desecrate. Peter tossed my phone aside and held me as I fell apart. I sobbed against his chest. He pulled out his phone and made a few quiet phone calls.

* * *

I couldn't get comfortable. I was restless on edge. There's no way that I'll be able to sleep tonight or go to school this week. I know that I'm supposed to, but there's just too much that could go wrong. What happens if my father decides to show up at school and demand to see me? What is the principal gonna say? No? I trembled at the though. I can't face him. How do you look your father in the eye, knowing that he would rather see you dead, than alive? How can anyone hate anyone else that much? How could he hate _**me**_ that much?

* * *

I was still shaking, when we were in the sheriff's office. Peter sat next to me and held my hand. I couldn't look at anyone. I was doing my best to block everything out and to try and not think about anything. I had already given my statement and now Peter was giving him. Melissa and Stiles were waiting patiently with us. Melissa had to give her statement next. I guess she had taken pictures of my injuries that night at the hospital. I don't remember her taking them, but I tried to block as much out about that night as I could. I'm not really surprised. Stiles was surprisingly quiet. He kept fidgeting. Derek opted to wait outside in the waiting area.

"May I have your phone, sweetheart?" Peter asked me, gently. I realized what he was asking me and for whatever reason, that triggered something inside of me. I nodded and handed it to him, as tears spilled down my face. I used my free hand to try and hide my meltdown. I couldn't stop it. It was like a dam had burst and this was my outpour. "He won't touch you, sweetheart." Peter whispered, pulling me onto his lap. I didn't react. He held me, as he finished his statement. I felt part of my shirt ride up.

"Oh, my _**God**_ ," the sheriff breathed. "I'm giving you an order of protection and a protection detail. If anything else happens, let me know. I don't care when it is. Peter has both my cell number and my home number. No one, especially your father, has the right to put his hands on you, or make you feel unsafe. I won't hesitate to throw his ass in jail. There's no way he'd ever be let out." John promised. I took a shaky deep breath and tried to gain some composure.

"Thank you." I breathed, standing up. "Can I use the restroom, please?" I asked. Everyone nodded in unison.

"I'll go with you." Melissa announced, getting to her feet. The way she said it, didn't leave any room for argument. She took my hand and escorted me to the bathroom, patiently. I couldn't walk very quickly, but she seemed to understand. She didn't say much, as I got situated in the bathroom. "You know, I know that I don't really know you and I don't expect you to take to me, but take it from someone who has been there. I've been where you are and I wouldn't give anything not to go through it again, or have anyone else have to go through it. Whatever your father told you, it was never your fault. Okay? There is nothing you could have done that would justify him putting his hands on you. Okay? You are a strong young woman, Bonnie. He can't break you. No matter how hard things seem right now, or how dark the world appears to be, I promise you that things can and will get better. You took a big step today. I know how hard it is to report abuse. It's something that not everyone can understand. They don't understand how brave someone is who comes forward and does something to try and stop their abuser. I'm proud of you. If you ever need someone to talk to, or advice, or just someone to cry with you, or a nonjudgmental ear, I'm here for you. I know that you already have a mother and I'm not yours, but I'd like to be there for me. You can ask Isaac, Scott and Stiles. I'm not new to being a surrogate mom." Her voice was shaking and full of emotion, when she finished. I was speechless. I had no idea what to say.

"Thank you." I murmured.

"You don't have to thank me. You never have to thank me for this."

* * *

There wasn't a whole lot of talking going on, but Scott, Lydia, Stiles and Derek were over. Stiles had some movie playing that I wasn't able to focus on. Scott was just like Stiles had described him. I wish I was meeting him and everyone else under better circumstances. I just felt numb. I didn't know what I wanted or what I needed.

"Sweetheart, would you like to go to bed?" Peter asked me, clearly picking up on the fact that I wasn't able to concentrate on the movie. I looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm beat." I apologized. It was the truth.

"Don't sweat it, Bonnie. It was awesome to meet you." Scott beamed at me. I gave him a small smile in return.

"Yeah, no one can blame you for being tired." Stiles agreed, sheepishly. Derek nodded in agreement.

"When you're feeling better, we should go shopping." Lydia suggested. I laughed.

"That sounds nice." I admitted. Stiles started passing blankets out and the gang settled in. "Are you guys staying here?" I asked. Scott, Derek and Stiles nodded. Lydia gave me a look that said it should be obvious.

"You didn't think that we'd let you stay alone – did you?" Scott asked me. I opened my mouth to respond, but just closed it instead.

"They want to make sure you're protected, sweetheart." Peter explained and that's all it took for the waterworks to start, again. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Peter guided me to his bedroom, since we've been sharing it the past couple of nights. I didn't even get a chance to thank the rest of his pack. He helped me change into pajamas and we laid together.

I don't know if it's the same for Peter, but I'm starting to feel that pull that he and Deaton were telling me about. I didn't like being away from Peter. I don't know how else to explain it. Why else would I feel so safe around someone that I just met? I doesn't make sense. None of this does. He makes me feel better. He makes me feel _**stronger**_. I don't even know how that's possible. I don't know whatever this is, but it's something.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Peter offered. I gazed up at him and shrugged, as much as I could.

"I was just thinking about you… about us… if there even is an us?" I admitted.

"I think it's safe to say that there is, after today. The cat is out of the bag." He said, with a wry smirk. "A week is nothing and we've done nothing that can be legally penalized. We'll keep it that way, but have no doubt that I'm infatuated with you. I care for you, Bonnie. That much is real."

"Okay." I breathed, trying to process what he had just told me. "I… That's a lot." I thought out loud.

"Nothing has to change." He reminded me, as he leaned over me, holding himself up, so he didn't crush me with his body. I reached a hand out and traced the side of his face. His eyes glowed and electric blue, but I didn't stop. This is something that I can't quite put my finger on. It's something that I've never had with anyone else, before. It feels intimate. "You keep me tethered to reality, without even realizing it." He mused. I looked up at him in surprised. I do?

"You make me feel almost like the girl I used to be." I whispered. I didn't even have time to think about what I just admitted to him. "You make me feel brave." I cringed with how pathetic I sounded.

"You _**are**_ brave." He argued.

"What do you even see in me?" I was terrified of what his answer would be. I couldn't mask how petrified I felt.

"Everything," he breathed. His lips were on mine and my mind swam. How can one word mean so much? He touched me like I was made of porcelain and maybe to him I was. I wasn't used to that. It felt _**so fucking nice**_. Things didn't feel forced here. It always feels so natural with Peter. It's like he's my normal.

"We can't go back. _**I can't**_ go back. Not after… I can't." I pulled back, trembling. It's almost like everything that has happened today is hitting me in waves and I can't control anything I'm feeling.

"You never have to." He promised. It was promise that said so much and so little. We were in this together, what this happens to be. I don't know what it means, but I know that I'm not alone, not anymore.

"I want to know you." I whispered. He has so many layers. I feel like every time I learn something about Peter, there are twice as many things that I don't know added to the puzzle.

"You will. I trust you." His lips were on mine again, but this time it was different. I melted in his embrace. I didn't worry about anything or anyone else. The only person I was able to concentrate on was him. He pulled away and took his shirt off, before helping me with mine. I didn't say anything. I trusted him not to push passed my boundaries. He kissed my jaw and all of the bruises on my neck. He continued his way down my body, leaving no injury unkissed. Tears prickled in my eyes. It didn't hurt, not physically. Trusting him with this… it made me feel exposed – _**vulnerable**_.

When he finished, he sat next to me and moved me onto his lap. His gaze poured into mine and I felt entranced. How does he do the things he does to me. He kissed me neck and I leaned into him.

"There was a fire that killed most of my family." He began to explain. He stopped kissing my neck, but continued to hold me against him. "A woman, who seduced Derek when he barely a teenager, burned my family and I alive. She was a hunter. Even hunters are supposed to follow a certain code, but she didn't. She burned children… innocents… they never had a chance. It's a miracle I survived. I was in a coma for years. My body was covered in burns… I have done some unforgiveable things… I'm not proud of them, but I can't take them back. I wasn't in my right mind, when I finally regained my strength. I use that term literally. I was insane. Scott and Derek killed me with help of their friends. I was the one who bit Scott and turned him. I killed people, sweetheart." He was completely serious. I didn't budge. I wanted to hear him out. I feel like I owe him that much, at least. "One of those people being my niece, Derek's older sister, Laura, she was the reigning Hale alpha. I killed her purely for power. In my deranged mind, the gain outweighed the loss. I needed her power to avenge my loss and the loss of family. I have tried time and time again, since I've been in my right mind to make sense of my actions and I can't. I brought myself back to life, using Lydia and kick-starting her banshee powers. It's another thing that I am not proud of. When I came back, I wasn't as powerful as I once was. It took a long time to regain my former strength. I'm a beta and I'm satisfied with that. My family here is more important than my supernatural status. I'm content with my pack. You want to know me? This is the darkest part of me. It has taken me a long time to earn back Derek's trust. I'm not that man anymore. I won't lie to you and say that I'm not a selfish man, because I am. I have selfish tendencies, but I swear to you that I will never hide anything from you." He admitted. His confession had me floored. I didn't know what to think. He killed his niece? I don't know what I would do, if someone had did to me, what they had done to him.

"You're not that man anymore?" I asked him. He shook his head, and looked at me, like he was searching my eyes for answers. "I didn't know you then… I'm not saying what you did is okay… but… I don't think I can judge you for it… I just… I still want to get to know you, Peter. I know you telling me that must have… Wow." I couldn't quite put what I was feeling into words.

"You don't have to stay in here, if I made you uncomfortable." He offered. I looked up at him in surprise.

"No, it's not that. It's just… it's a lot to trust me with."

"I meant what I said. I do trust you."

* * *

We didn't talk anymore, after that. He just held me and we stayed in an oddly comfortable silence. Maybe there's more to this mate thing, than I thought? Does that mean that we're soulmates? I don't know. Maybe we just need each other.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright everyone, this chapter isn't as long as the last, but the next chapter should hopefully be longer. Hope you're still enjoying this! This is intended to be slow-burn. Reviews, as always, are welcome!
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.

I blinked and stared at the wall by Peter's bed. He was still sleeping and I didn't want to wake him. Things felt different this morning. They didn't feel bad… just different. It was be a vast understatement to say that yesterday changed things for us. Nothing about our situation is normal. Even though anyone else would probably be running from this situation, I can't help wanting to stay. Something about how personal the part of Peter that he kept hidden away from everyone else… that decided to share with me… it just made me want to be with him that much more.

He keeps saying that he isn't used to this and that he doesn't feel things the way that other people do, but my relationship with Peter, if you can even call it that, is the most normal thing in my life right now. It's one of the only things that is keeping me going. His belief in me that I'm strong enough to survive my father… his constant reminders of the woman the he thought Grams raised me to be… they're building me up. I know that I'll never be able to thank him enough for it.

"What are you thinking about, sweetheart? I can hear how your brain going from here." Peter's quiet voice filled my ears. I gave a small involuntary jump. I thought that he was still sleeping.

"Us," I admitted, quietly.

"I like the sound of that." He mused, before lightly tightening his grip around my middle and placing a trail of soft kisses on my neck.

"Last night you said that there was an us…" I reminded him.

"I did." He agreed. He sounded like he was waiting for me to finish my thought. I bit my lip and thought about how to word what I was thinking.

"So we're...?" I was waiting for him to fill in the blank. He kissed my neck gingerly and I felt him smiling against my skin.

"We're together, sweetheart. Are you alright with that?" He asked me. I nodded and scooted closer to him. "Good, because I don't know if I would be able to let you go." He whispered. Something about his words touched me deeper than I thought possible. It didn't sound possessive or controlling, like it would if my father had been the one to say it, instead. It sounded honest and sincere. It was almost like he was afraid to let himself think about the possibility of having me in his life. It was something that I wasn't used to. I've getting a lot of that from Peter. "I don't deserve you." His words were almost too quiet for me to hear. I almost didn't catch it.

"What –" I barely had the first word out, when Stiles burst through Peter's bedroom door with a sheepish smile on his face, with Scott hot on his trail.

"The wolfies can hear you talking and I'm _**starving**_. Let's eat breakfast! _**Please**_." Stiles whined. I laughed, unable to help myself.

"Are you unable to feed yourself, Stiles?" Peter asked him, clearly as amused as I am.

"No, but Lydia said it would be rude to eat without you… since it's _**your**_ house." He complained. Scott just laughed behind him. I know that Stiles compared his friendship with Scott to that of being brothers, but they honestly do act like siblings.

"Stiles, if you're so hungry – why don't you come help me make breakfast?" Lydia asked from behind them. He closed his mouth and blinked, like the thought had never even occurred to him, but nodded sheepishly, nonetheless. I suppressed a giggle.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Good thinking, Lydia." Scott agreed. They both led him away. "We'll let you know when breakfast is ready." They closed the door behind them. I turned to face Peter, again.

"What do you mean by that? 'You don't deserve me?'" I echoed. I turned carefully to face him and his face gave away nothing.

"I thought it was obvious, sweetheart." He deflected. I just kept staring at him, hoping that he would expand on his vague confession. "You're so… pure in so many ways. It's almost a crime for you to entrust yourself to me. I fear I would corrupt you."

"Corrupt me…" I breathed. I still don't think that I know what he's trying to tell me. Is it because he has a dark side? "What makes you think that I'm that easy to manipulate?" I asked him, before I could stop myself. The corners of his mouth turned up and he looked like I had just surprised him, again.

"Just when I think that I have you figured out, darling, you surprise me." He smirked.

"I could say the same thing about you." I reminded him. "Maybe we're just different enough that we balance each other out." I suggested.

"Perhaps you're right."

* * *

The day passed by pretty smoothly. It was nice to have a day without incident. The relaxing day wasn't enough to let me forget about the impending drama that is looming over me. I doubt I'd ever be able to forget that. The more time that I spend away from my father, the more clear it becomes that I was the one deluding myself into ever thinking that he would ever be able to change. He didn't want to be there for me. He only wanted to control me. He wanted to _**own**_ me. With my father, it always comes down to control.

Once I'm of age, I won't have any legal obligations to stay with father. But, he has made it abundantly clear that the law won't stop him. I'm terrified to even think about what he might try to do to keep me.

I just don't understand why he cares so much now. He couldn't be bothered to be around, when I was growing up… I can't remember him ever being home for my birthday. He was only around for Christmas, because Grams demanded it. Has he always been like this and he just kept it hidden? Did Grams know, and that's why she raised me? Is he the reason that my mother left?

I have so many unanswered questions that I know I know that I will never get answers to. I hate it. It eats me up inside. I don't know how to be okay with never getting the answers…

* * *

I'm supposed to be meeting the rest of the pack tomorrow, but I'm on edge. Including tomorrow, there are only two days left until my birthday. I can feel it in my gut that my father is planning something horrible.

What happens if it comes down to him or me? Who will I choose? What will I do? I can't even begin to fathom the possible outcomes. I'm just scared. I'm scared and I'm tired and I'm tired of being scared. When will it stop?

There is something that keeps gnawing at my gut. It's this feeling that my life finally started, whenever we moved to Beacon Hills. I don't know what to make of that, but I believe it.

"I won't let him hurt you, sweetheart." Peter whispered, from the doorway from his bathroom. I was soaking in his bathtub, but I was well covered with hot water and bubbles. I knew he couldn't see anything.

"That's not something you can promise, Peter. You won't always be there to protect me. I don't expect you to." I said the words that I've been aching to say for days.

"I know that, kitten, but I will do everything in my power to ensure that he never lays a finger on you, again." He admitted, as he sat down next to the tub. "I also know that if push came to shove, that you could take care of yourself. Your powers should manifest on your birthday. You won't be able to control them, per se, but it will be instinctive. Your body will know what to do. You just have to trust yourself. You have to remember that it's okay to protect yourself. It's _**necessary**_ to protect yourself. You're a _**survivor**_ , Bonnie. Don't _**let**_ him hurt you. You don't deserve that. Do you hear me? No one deserves that. You deserve so much more." His words wafted through my ears, like a harsh melody that was made just for me. I heard him. I _**really**_ heard him. "I don't know if I'm saying the right things or going about this the right way… I'm doing this the only way that I know how. I'm afraid that if I treat you too delicately… about facing your father… then you won't survive it."

"Peter," my voice broke and I reached for his hand. He's doing what he's doing, because he cares. He doesn't want me to die. I haven't know this man for long, but in some ways, I feel like I've known him for years. How is this even possible? "Thank you." I breathed. I didn't know what else to say.

He reached for me and pulled me into his arms. He held me and let me cry. The fact that I was soaking wet and covered in soap didn't seem to faze him. He just held me. I heard a knock and looked up to see a red Stiles and an equally embarrassed looking Derek.

"We, um… We just wanted to make sure that you were okay." Derek explained, lamely. He was trying to look anywhere, but at us.

"Thank you, Derek. We're as well as can be expected. We'll be out in a few minutes. Would the two of you mind putting the kettle on. I think some hot tea might help." Peter suggested.

"You got it, big guy." Stiles agreed, before hurrying away, dragging Derek with him.

"I don't think I've ever heard Stiles that quiet before." Peter teased. I laughed, unable to help myself.

"Hey! I heard that!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: GUYS. UGH. DRAMA this chapter. And I'll say trigger warnings to be on the safe side. Reviews are love.  
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.

Today was the day. I'm officially eighteen and I don't feel any different. I'm not sure it I should or not. I've been dragging my feet and taking my sweet time getting ready this morning. Something is going to go down today. I can feel it in my bones. I think not knowing what my father is planning is the worst part.

"Sweetheart, are you going to stay in here all day?" Peter asked me, leaning against his bedroom doorframe. We've already moved all of my belongings from my father's house, into Peter's spare bedroom. I still really haven't spent any actual time in there. I'm always so much more comfortable with Peter. He hasn't seemed to mind.

"I was considering it." I told him, honestly. He chuckled and walked over to me. He wrapped his arms around my middle and leaned down to give me a kiss. It calmed me, immediately. I felt something surge in the air around us and a growing warmth blossom in my chest. I pressed my hands against his chest and clutched his shirt. I looked up at him and saw that his eyes were glowing that electric blue that I've grown so fond of. My entire body felt like it was waking up from a deep sleep. Peter tightened his hold on me and I knew that he must be feeling it, too. What is this? Everything around us seemed to intensify in color. Gradually, the feeling became less and less intense. Peter and I stayed in our embrace.

"I think you've just ascended, kitten." He breathed. I didn't have to ask him what he meant by it. I knew that he was right.

"Why did you feel it, too?" I asked him. He hesitated before answering. He seemed just as surprised by it, as I was.

"Deaton mentioned that something like this could happen. I didn't mention it, because the cases are so rare. In few unique cases, when mates are two different supernatural beings, when a witch comes into his or her powers, it is possible for them to become further bonded. There haven't been enough incidents for us to know the extent of the consequences of being bonded." Peter explained. I nodded, slowly, taking it all in. Whatever happened, didn't just happen to me. It happened to him, too. We're bonded? Is that really such a leap from being mates?

"I guess you're stuck with me." I joked, lamely. I expected him to smirk or a chuckle, at the very least, but I got neither. He just pulled me closer and leaned down. I felt his breath against my cheeks and found it impossible to ignore how fast my heart was beating. His eyes are so incredibly blue. My breath hitched, as his hand traveled to my lower back, before teetering dangerously low.

"You know that there is no one who I would rather be stuck with." He breathed, like it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. Maybe it was? For whatever reason, I've never doubted that Peter was interested in me and only me. It's something that I didn't realize I knew until just now.

"I know." I whispered. I felt this intense pull to him – a need to be as close to Peter as I possibly could. His lips touched mine and it was everything I felt before and more. He nipped at my bottom lip, until I parted my lips for him. He took the lead with a newfound aggression. He wasn't being rough, really, but he had always been gentler with me, than this, not that I was complaining. I whimpered against him and he cupped my ass. I shivered against him and tried to keep up with his ministrations. He was making me feel so many things at once. I broke our kiss to breathe. Peter didn't waste any time as I greedily sucked down oxygen. His mouth found my neck and I bucked my hips against him, involuntarily. He picked me up and carried me over to his bed. His hand trailed up my leg, as I curled it against him. My squeezed my butt, making me moan. His free hand found mine and he intertwined his fingers with mine. He rolled his hips against mine and I felt something burn my neck. I gasped and Peter stilled. His hand went to his neck and we stayed together, panting.

He lifted his hand and I looked at his neck. There's a small mark a little bit below his hairline, almost behind his ear and I have no idea what it means. It almost looks like one of the ancient symbols Deaton was showing me in one of his grimoires, while he was trying to explain the basics of getting in touch with nature, before I started delving any deeper into magic.

"What is that?" I asked him. The way he was looking at my neck tells me that I have the same thing. "Is it because of the bond?" I pressed.

"Your guess is as good as mine." He admitted. "I'll call Deaton." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and moved off of me. He gave me one last kiss, before excusing himself to make the call. I fell back against the pillows and tried to catch my breath. Wow. Well, if I needed any kind of distraction from what could go wrong today, that'll do it.

* * *

I was on the couch with Deaton and Peter. Deaton pretty much confirmed what we assumed about our marks. It basically lets everyone else know that we're mated and bonded and if they challenge that, then something bad will happen… probably. That's our best guess, anyway.

I jumped, when someone banged on the door. I shot a scared look to Peter. He tensed and looked pissed. I watched with Deaton, as he opened the door. He stood tall and my father even took a step back. Peter can seem intimidating, when he wants to be.

"Bonnie, let's go." My father demanded. I shook my head. "I'm not asking. Get your ass home." He growled. Peter took a step closer to him and my father turned his attention to him, instead.

"I suggest you stop threatening Bonnie and leave. It would be in your best interest." Peter told him, coolly.

"Rudy, whatever this is, surely there's a better way to handle it." A feminine voice filled my ears. I stood up and walked over to Peter. Deaton stayed where he was. I have a feeling like he's more powerful than he lets on. "Is this about your daughter? She's eighteen. You can't control her." She added. A pretty brunette came into view. She doesn't look much older than me.

"Peter's right." I told my father, quietly. His nostrils flared and he looked pissed. Peter placed a hand on the small of my back and it took all of my willpower not to lean into it.

"Is this what this is about?" My father spat, noticing Peter's affection. I shook my head.

"You know what this is about. You're Camilla, aren't you?" I asked her. She nodded and seemed to be a little confused about the situation. "Do you know what you're getting into? My father threatened to kill me, if I didn't come home by today, my birthday. I left, because he put me in the hospital. He has a terrible temper and likes to hit women." I told her, with every ounce of courage I had in my body. Her face changed drastically. She gaped at me and then to my dad.

"Rudy, she's lying. Right? You'd never do something like that, would you?" She asked him. His glare is becoming increasingly lethal.

"I never did anything to my daughter that the little bitch didn't deserve." He snapped. Camilla gasped and Peter's eyes narrowed. I was trembling. I was all bravado. I couldn't do this. I can't face my father. I was stupid to think that I could finally stand up to him. I'm not strong enough to do this. I never was. Oh, God, he's going to kill me.

Peter's hand found mine and he gave me a gentle squeeze. I felt the tightness is my chest start to dissipate. My breathing slowed and I didn't feel like I was suffocating, anymore.

"I'm never going back there." I told him, trying to stand my ground.

"Look, surely there's some way that we can work this out." Camilla tried. "I'm sure that whatever happened, happened for a reason. He's your father. You can't just cut him out of your life. That isn't right." She ended her spiel. Is she high right now? Peter stiffened and he let go of my hand. He moved his hand to the hem of my shirt and lifted it, so she could see the bruises that I still had. His other hand pulled at my sleeve, so she could see my arm. Her face contorted, but gave nothing else away.

"Tell me, what could she have done to deserve this?" He asked her. She didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry." My father whispered. I blinked, unsure that I heard him right. What? "I didn't mean for things to go that far." He has never apologized to me – ever.

"Right." Peter didn't seem convinced. I don't blame him, neither am I.

"Come over for dinner. Give me a chance to try and apologize properly." He proposed. I looked to Peter. He seemed to be mulling it over.

"Fine," he agreed.

* * *

I wasn't okay. I wasn't okay with doing this. I didn't want to do this, but it was happening. I knew that it needed to happen. I need to stand up to him. Peter called Sheriff Stilinski and Deputy Parrish. They're going to be at Peter's while we're at my father's, in case he tries anything. It's a setup. I can feel it. But I guess this is a concrete way to put him away for good. I just wish that it was easier to psych myself to do this. I feel like I'm going to vomit.

"It's time, sweetheart." Peter told me. I looked over at him and nodded, trying to get my breathing under control. "I won't let him hurt you." He reiterated what he's been telling me. I just nodded. I don't trust my voice to speak, right now. I just want this to be done and over with.

I didn't say anything as Peter led me next door. I couldn't get my trembling under control. I knew that I was stronger than I was the last time that I was here, but that doesn't really make me feel any safer. Peter does. I just. I don't know if I can actually do this.

"You're here." My father opened the door, right as we reached it. Peter and I nodded in unison. "Good, come in." He stepped aside, so we could come in. I have a sharp, horrible feeling in my gut that something is about to go horribly, horribly wrong. I hope to goddess that I'm wrong, but something tells me that I'm not.

"I hope you're hungry!" Camilla announced as she walked into the dining room. I shook my head, still not trusting my voice. Peter kept quiet as well. We just kept walking to the table. The plates were already set out and the table was otherwise set. We sat down, but didn't touch anything. It was awkward to say the least. Camilla started dishing out food. I reached for my glass of water, but Peter shook his head. He took a deep breath, like he was trying to smell for something.

My father got situated and took a bite of his food – Camilla did the same. He seemed irritated that we weren't doing the same. He kept staring at us, as if daring us to eat the food in front of us. What could he have done to it?

"Really, it's an insult that the two of you would accept our invitation and then come here and not eat. It's rude and wasteful." My father scolded us. I flinched and Peter's hand found mine, under the table. His thumb rubbed over my knuckles, gently. It helped.

"It would be more of an insult, if you hadn't put something in the food." Peter said, like he was making small talk, not accusing my father of trying to drug us. My father fumed. Camilla just looked down and her food and stayed quiet. Why is she even here?

"That's ridiculous." My father deflected.

"As is beating your daughter," Peter replied. My dad gritted his teeth and scowled at him. I still didn't say anything.

"She is mine to beat. Did you really think that I would let her go that easily?" My father snarled.

"I think that we're done here." Peter stood up and I followed suit.

"You're done hurting me." I spoke up for the first time, since we had gotten there. My father threw his plate in my direction, but Peter deflected it, easily. We walked to the door.

"Bonnie!" My father shouted. I turned around in time to feel something hit me in the side. I looked down and saw a growing crimson spot on my shirt. I felt a sudden sharp pain. I clutched my side and looked at my father. He had a gun with a silencer in his hand. He started firing off more shots, but Peter moved too fast. I felt my skin grow hot and everything around us started shaking. My father lost his footing and his grip on the gun. It went off again, only to catch him in the leg. Peter picked me up and rushed me next door. We were at his house in moments. As soon as he threw open the door, Stiles' father jumped to his feet.

"She's been shot! Rudy is armed!" Peter explained.

"I've got her. I had medical training in my army." Parrish took me from Peter's arms and John ran out of the house. At least I'll never have to see my father again. I hope that this is the last time he'll be around. "I'll patch this up the best I can, but we need to get you to the hospital."

"Of course," Peter agreed. I shivered as Parrish went to work. It hurts like a bitch, but at least I don't have to be afraid anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know my updates have been few and far between. Sorry about that! I'm working full-time and taking classes to try and get my degree completed as soon as humanly possible. This chapter is on the shorter side, but I promise to try and have the next update be longer. I jot down my chapters in a smallish notebook I keep in my purse, when I have time on my break at work (when I'm not working on homework), so bear with me!
> 
> I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.

The next few weeks were a medically induced blur. I didn't know what to think. I thought I would be a little relieved after I confronted my father, but I wasn't. I think I was in shock, more than anything. Sure, I knew that my dad wasn't 'father of the year,' but never in my wildest dreams had I thought that he would ever shoot me. How could he do that to me – his own _**daughter**_?

I think that the realization that the man I used to know as a little girl was gone – was more painful than my bullet wound. I had been in denial. I didn't want to believe it. I don't know how I could keep lying to myself, despite all of my bruises.

I didn't speak to anyone, even Peter. I was grieving the loss of the only family I had left. Peter never asked me to explain. I think that in a way – maybe because of our bond – he knew. He knew that he had to give me time to process this the only way that I knew how.

Despite Peter and my new friends, I have never felt so alone, in my life. My father wasn't dead, but he was dead to me. I wasn't ready to let him go, but I knew that I had to. If I didn't – he would end up killing me. And that wasn't something that I'll ever be okay with.

* * *

"As much as I enjoy lying here with you, sweetheart, we can't stay here forever." Peter whispered, as he kissed below my jawline and continued to rest his head in the groove of my neck. I knew that he was right, I just didn't know where I was supposed to go from here. I knew that even if I wanted to, that there was no way that I'd be able to focus on school. I'm emotionally wrecked. I have never felt so mentally drained in all of my life.

"I know." I whispered, instead of saying all of the things I wasn't comfortable putting into words.

"I meant what I said before all of this escalated. You have me – all of me, Bonnie. I am yours and that will never chance, kitten." Peter promised. I knew that he meant it. I could feel it in my bones. He was mine and I was his. I knew that this – _**us**_ – was just the beginning of our journey together. I don't know how, but I could feel it with every fiber of my being.

"My father might be out of the picture, but our fight is far from over. We have time to get stronger, but trouble will continue to grow near." The words that came out of my mouth didn't feel like my own. Peter stilled next to me. Where did that come from?

"Bonnie, sweetheart…" Peter couldn't even finish his thought.

"That wasn't me – was it?" I asked him, as fear crept through my body.

"My best guess would be a vision." Deaton said, walking into my hospital room. How does he always know exactly when to show up? And why do I get the feeling that he still hasn't told us everything?

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Reviews would be wonderful.
> 
> Xo,  
> Anneryn


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